


You'll Be My Resolution

by embro



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A lot of talk about thoughts and feelings, Absolutely zero smut, Agoraphobia, Also a little bit of Louis/ Liam, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Issues, As in so tiny don't read this for the Zarry, Dependency Issues, Harry is a phone sex operator, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not as sexy as it sounds, Panic Attacks, Sexual Harassment, Tiniest mention of Harry/ Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:09:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embro/pseuds/embro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Louis liked reading best because he saw these characters as just people with their lives taken out of their own hands. Their world came from the mind of someone else, and Louis wished he had that privilege. He wished that his problems existed because someone else gave them to him and so could just as easily take them away. But he didn’t believe in any kind of higher power. The only thing controlling him was fear, and ultimately that was all on him. </em><br/> </p><p> </p><p>Louis is severely agoraphobic and Harry is the phone sex operator who gives him that little bit of sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Influenced by/ title taken from Matt Corby - Resolution.

It was days like these that made Louis most aware of how truly fucked up he was. When the sun was hidden behind black clouds, and drops of water were torrentially dropping from the sky to run into already overflowing drains. When people were jogging by Louis’ window holding brightly coloured umbrellas, socks soaking and squelching in their shoes as they rushed off to the Tube Station. All these people had to look forward to was a day spent in front of a computer in a building as dull as their suits, longing to be at home under a soft blanket with a cup of tea warming their hands. All Louis wanted was to be outside with them, with somewhere to go or someone to see; even if it meant spending a day with wet socks and frizzy hair in an office too hot for a coat but too cold for a jacket. He missed little things like that. Stupid things that had made him furious at the time; that made him feel trapped and lonely and uncomfortable. He wished that it was times like those that he knew what true discomfort and loneliness and imprisonment felt like, because then those dull moments would feel just that; dull. Not claustrophobic or anger- inducing or catastrophic. Then he might not be in the situation he is in now, trapped inside his house and his head, fear his only warden.

 

Louis didn’t like watching TV. His first three months inside were spent on the couch, flicking through channels and trying to follow as many soaps and game shows as he could. He’d never touched the TV since. He likened it to when he went through a stage of eating only boiled eggs for breakfast, and after two weeks the very thought of them made him gag. He’d overloaded on Soaps and reality shows until he couldn’t handle the whiny voices or ridiculous story lines anymore. If he needed to watch something, he took to staring out his front window. He’d make up little stories for them, about where they were going or, if they looked interesting enough, their entire lives. The lady with the pram and the toddler hanging off her would be on her way to dropping him to his first playdate. The boy dressed all in black with purple hair and piercings would be the base guitarist in a famous band, jealous of the frontman because _he_ wrote the songs and didn’t get the recognition. Louis would imagine what he would talk to them about. He’d form conversations in his head, imagine the place where they would happen, think up reasons for how they got talking in the first place. He saw it as practice for when he got better, as a way to remind himself how to socialise because two years alone is a long time. 

Louis liked books too. He’d worked out ways to make reading them take even longer, like imagining what the other characters were doing right at that moment or making up their back stories if they weren’t given one. He liked reading best, actually, because Louis saw these characters as just people with their lives taken out of their own hands. Their world came from the mind of someone else, and Louis wished he had that privilege. He wished that his problems existed because someone else gave them to him and so could just as easily take them away. But he didn’t believe in any kind of higher power. The only thing controlling him was fear, and ultimately that was all on him. 

 

Finding ways to make his days pass quicker became its own kind of art. Instead of ordering groceries online once a week, he would do it every couple of days. It would mean he could spend time perusing the catalogues and waiting for his groceries to show, then trying to have a conversation with the delivery boy before he left to fulfil other orders. It was always the same boy, an Irishman who was blonde and whose nametag read ‘Niall’. He was kind and funny, but sympathy seemed to be permanently etched onto his face. Louis wondered if that was always the case, but he knew that more than likely it was just during their encounters. 

He cleaned the house completely every day, scrubbing bathrooms and the kitchen, washing his sheets, sweeping the floors. He could make it last a good few hours if he took little tea breaks before each chore. He’d never been one to obsess over how clean his house was, but now he was thankful for the ability to notice the smallest speck of dust and the inability to allow dirty dishes to sit in the sink. 

He’d bought a mini gym online once, and spent two days setting it up in his parents’ old room. He tried to spend at least an hour on the equipment, stretching out every muscle in his body and using up any last bit of energy he had.

Louis taught himself to cook, and tried to make something different every single day. The most difficult recipe the better, because sometimes he would stuff up and have to start again and so an hour would disappear without thought. Then he would eat the meal and drink a single glass of wine or a beer, chewing every mouthful slowly until it practically slid down his throat. The most difficult meals were also the best because they made lots of mess, and Louis could stretch out washing the dishes and wiping the stove down to a good half hour at least. 

After cleaning the kitchen Louis would have a bath, only getting out when the bubbles dissolved into nothing, a candle’s flame flickered out and goosebumps appeared on his skin. Usually, then, he’d be so relaxed that he could drag himself into bed and fall straight to sleep. But at other times, he couldn’t stop his mind from running. He’d climb into bed and close his eyes but he wouldn’t be tired, or he’d be so exhausted that his body ached and he couldn’t ignore the pain. For times like those, there was Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was usually in lectures when he got Louis’ calls. He took night classes, working morning shifts at a pancake restaurant and at a small pub in the afternoons. He’d lived on the wages from just these two jobs in his first year, but it all went to rent and bills and left nothing just for him. It’s why he got the other job, really. So he could stop saying _no, I can’t afford it_ when his friends invited him places. He was _residing_ in London, in a flat just out of Soho, but he was _living_ vicariously through his mates, who had the Uni-life imagined by everyone still in school. The one where you went to classes during the day and spent time in the campus bar during the afternoon, discussing lecturers and girls and clubs and making plans for nights out. You’d work and live off 80p packets of pasta and cheap beer. You’d invite all your mates over for football games and eat crisps and drink wine from a bag; the horrible stuff that stained your mouth purple and gave you the worst kind of hangover. The only part of that imagined life Harry had been living was the bland pasta. Sometimes he lashed out and got a jar of sauce. 

A mate of his, Zayn, had suggested the phone-sex job. He said he did it sometimes, when he needed a bit of extra cash. It sounded easy, and Harry knew he had a nice voice; naturally slow and smooth, but he could make it gravelly and rough without much thought. Zayn gave him the number to the agency he worked through and they got drunk and sat in different rooms and Harry practiced on him. It was excruciatingly awkward and they never spoke of it again, but Harry was pretty sure he got Zayn to come with just his voice. Unless Zayn was faking the groans and the skin-on-skin slapping and the way he moaned _Fuck_ before things went silent. Harry figured that if he could do that to his best mate of five years, then he could get strangers off easy. 

Like every new job, it was hard at first. He had to learn all the rules and work out his obligations. He had to fit it into his already crammed schedule, deciding nights after uni were the only real option. It meant he got only five hours of sleep, but at least he had weekends.

The women were the simplest. He just had to groan about how wet they were, and how hard he was for them. The kinkiest one he’d got so far was just someone who wanted Harry to pretend he was her friend’s son, calling up to beg her for rough dirty sex in his Mum’s bed. It was weird, but still pretty easy. 

The men were a little harder. They were more demanding and often threatening, but Harry still knew the exact things to say to get them off in their fists and off the phone. Unlike the women, who usually wanted him to take control, the men mostly wanted to talk about how Harry wanted to take it. So he’d beg for _a big fat cock_ in his ass or down his throat, and moan about how good he felt, and gag around whatever phallic shaped object was closest to him, and then they would come with a guttural groan and that would be it. 

The only difficult part of his job became Louis, because he just wanted to talk. He wanted to discuss world news and recommend books and ask about Harry’s day. He liked to hear about what Harry learnt in his lectures, and talk about friends that sounded too strange to be real. It was easy because he could take the call at Uni in the hallways and no one would think anything of it. It was hard because it wasn't a sex thing. It was hard because it just sounded like Louis was desperate for a friend. It was hard because they weren’t friends, but it felt like they were, and every time Louis called up it made Harry feel guilty because Louis paid for his conversation and that wasn’t worth anything. 

 

The first time Louis called, Harry had just finished jerking off and so had answered his phone with a breathy groan. Something like that would have usually made his customers get hard or wet immediately, but Louis had uttered a strange squeak and told Harry to stop. 

“Can we just talk?” he’d asked.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed but he smiled anyway, because it made his voice sound a little friendlier and he figured this guy was just nervous. “Of course we can talk, love. What would you like to talk about?” he’d said in his softest slowest voice. 

“Umm, anything really. I just can’t get to sleep and I didn’t know what else to do.” He’d explained, and Harry got that. Some people couldn’t sleep without getting off, and sometimes that just felt impossible. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” Harry said, pushing himself up from his bed to locate a text book. Sometimes he could get study in while on the phone, and this felt like one of those customers that wouldn’t notice.

“I just can’t stop thinking, really. I’ve tried everything I usually do, like a bath and a vanilla scented candle, but my thoughts won’t stop… going.” The boy had a nice voice. It was much higher pitched then Harry’s, and he spoke a lot faster, but it had a nice rhythm to it. 

Harry nodded, but quickly realised the boy couldn’t hear him. “Maybe you need a distraction from your thoughts. Is that something you would like my help with?”

“Yeah, it is.” The boy’s sigh sounded grateful. 

“What usually helps me relax is a good, slow wank. Would you like to do that with me?” 

And the line went silent. Dead silent, and Harry would have been sure the other boy had disappeared if it wasn’t for the sound of the softest of breaths. 

“I’m sorry.” The boy finally said. “I don’t think you can help me.” 

“Wait.” Harry said, too quick to even wonder what he was about to do. “I’m sorry. It’s just that’s what I thought you wanted. It’s only ever what people call for.” And Harry could feel himself redden, embarrassed for the first time about what he had said on the phone to a faceless, nameless person. 

“I understand. Umm, Harry is it?” the boy asked.

Harry had got over the shock a long time ago, of people knowing his name and not knowing theirs. The agency demanded it, and he’d accepted because it was only the first name and no damage could come of that. _It personalises things for the customers_ was their weak explanation, and yeah. Harry got that. “Yeah, it’s Harry. Would you like to tell me your name?”

“Louis. I know this is weird for you. I just really want to talk to someone that doesn’t know me and ask questions about things I don’t want to answer or know what to say. I get that you might not want to, the lady just said that you would be nice when I asked for someone… nice.”

“Of course, we can do that if you want. Just, this costs a lot of money. And there are free numbers you can call to talk to people. Professional people, that would know the right things to say.” Harry said, because maybe Louis didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t realise that the only thing Harry was good at was serving food and pouring wine and occasionally having phone sex with strangers. He wasn’t a professional anything.

“Those phone lines are for people that want to talk about how they’re feeling. I don’t want that, I just want conversation.” Louis explained. And Harry _hmmed_ like he understood. Maybe he did a little. He knew what it felt like to be lonely, and to want to talk about nothing when all everyone else wanted to do was ask about how he was doing. “So can we do that?” Louis begged.

“Yeah, we can do that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Louis had tried chat rooms and message boards to socialise, but he found them too unnerving. He couldn’t handle the complete anonymity of it, not knowing anything about the person unless they told him. At least on the phone, Louis could pick up things through their voice; not only emotion and mood but things as simple as the person’s sex. He didn’t like waiting for replies, either. It made him sick, wondering why they weren’t responding to his message, what he could have done to make them leave, whether they even cared about him enough to answer. He would always work himself up to a point of no return, and by the end he was drafting out messages and rereading them too many times before he sent them. He stopped all together when he realised that it was doing him more harm than good. Not before coming across an advertisement for Harry’s agency, though.

It’s slogan was simply _Let’s talk_ , and that was all Louis wanted to do. So he called and asked for anyone that he could just talk to, someone nice, with a friendly voice, and he got Harry. Who was impossibly nice and funny and charming, and interesting and understanding and clever. He never rejected Louis’ calls, and Louis needed that; he needed reliability and stability in people and Harry reminded him it was possible. 

 

There was a boy that Louis made sure to watch every day. It meant that he had to wake up at seven every morning, but it was worth it. The boy was beautiful. 

He had tanned skin and darker hair and the darkest chocolate eyes Louis had ever seen. He was hard muscle with a soft face, and the friendliest of smiles. He would be in the park stretching every morning without fail, and Louis would always be at the window to watch him. He wore thin shirts that fell across his back, hiding nothing when he bent and squatted and lunged. When he returned from his morning run, the thin material would be wet and clinging to his skin and his hair would be stuck to his forehead. He would look flushed and his chest would rise and fall quickly, and Louis couldn’t take his eyes away. The boy knew, too.

He would wave at Louis before he started stretching, and just before he would leave, and again when he got back to warm down. It made Louis sick with worry. Every day he would tell himself that the boy was going to come knocking at his door, demanding him to stop, and every day he would promise himself that it would be the last. That tomorrow, he wasn’t going to get out of bed until well after eight and he wasn’t going to go anywhere near the front window. But the boy never did come knocking, and Louis was never one to sleep in, and the window was never left alone between seven and eight in the morning. 

Louis told Harry about the boy once, when they were talking about exes and crushes and relationships that could have been but never were. Well, Harry was talking about it and Louis was listening, because that’s how they usually were when it came to discussing personal things. Louis would ask Harry something and Harry would answer, then he would return the question and Louis would change the subject. He didn’t want to think about himself and his past when talking to Harry, because he thought about those things nearly every other second of the day. Harry had said that he had a crush on a boy but couldn’t say, and Louis said he thought he liked a boy too. 

Harry had been silent for a moment before he asked who it was, and it all came out in a rush. How Louis didn’t know him but knew what he looked like and wished he knew what he sounded like too. How he lived across the road and went jogging every morning in clingy shirts and football shorts and worn out running shoes, and Louis wished he could see him in tight jeans because he found them incredibly sexy. How after he stretched he pulled his Ipod out of his pocket and stuck his earphones in and would always grin widely when he put on the first song. Louis desperately wanted to hear that playlist.

“Why don’t you say hello?” Harry asked simply, and Louis felt nausea roll over him at the very thought.

“I can’t, it’s impossible.” Louis said in a rush.

“Just put on some joggers and join him in the park.” Harry suggested, and Louis felt even sicker.

“I have to go.” He said quickly before hanging up and rushing off to the bathroom to release the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He could have told Harry everything. He could have admitted it all to the one person that didn’t know anything. His safe haven would have been demolished with a few simple words. _I never leave. I can’t leave. I don’t know how to handle the world on my own._ Because Harry wouldn’t understand, just like everyone else. He would say “Of course you can” and ask why and Louis didn’t want to answer that. Because Harry would think him weak, and he wasn’t ready to lose someone else just yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry hadn’t had a week this bad since before the phone-sex job. He was dropping plates of pancakes and slipping on chocolate sauce; he was stuffing up orders and knocking over glasses of wine with his pokey elbows; he was finding it particularly hard to get anyone off in under five minutes using only his raspy voice and a few groans. It all meant he lost tips and time that could have been spent on the necessary, and it was all Louis’ fault. 

 

“It’s really fucked, isn’t it? That I care this much about someone I haven’t even met?” Harry grumbled, prodding his cheek with the beer bottle in his hands. His face felt numb, and he liked to check that it was still there.

“You got to slow down.” Liam warned, trying to take the beer out of Harry’s hands but failing to unwrap the fingers clenched around it.

“Let him go, he’s worked hard all week.” Zayn said with a grin directed at Liam, then turned to look into Harry’s blood-shot green eyes “I think what’s more fucked is that he’s a customer.” 

“But he’s not like _that_.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “We know, he’s sweet and funny and mysterious. You’re beginning to sound a lot like Liam, you know.”

Harry shot up, sitting up so quickly that he nearly fell back off his stool. “What do you mean? Who does Liam like?”

Liam blushed and shook his head and tried to change the subject by saying “So you do have a thing for him? You aren’t just worried?”

Zayn ignored him. “Liam’s got a stalker who he’s been saying he’ll talk to since forever but doesn’t have the balls. Probably for the best, if you ask me. He creeps at him through his window.”

Liam blushed redder. “No he doesn’t! Niall!” he suddenly yelled, and the Irishman abandoned his game of pool to join them at their little table. “Tell them he’s not a creep!”

Niall frowned for a moment before it all seemed to click. “Nah, he’s not a perve or anything. He just can’t leave his house and likes to look out his window. It’s pretty sad, really. His whole face lights up when I come to drop his groceries off. And he can’t even make proper conversation, but he tries.”

Harry frowns. “Why doesn’t he leave his house?”

“It’d be rude to ask, wouldn’t it?”

Zayn snorted. “I don’t get why you’d want to deal with that, to be honest.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw him.” Liam muttered, and then his blush returned because they were all grinning at him, Harry a little more sluggishly then the rest.

“So really, you two are in the same boat. You’re both crushing on a pervert.”

Liam groaned and Harry pouted and Niall cackled but slapped Zayn a little too hard on the back. 

“You’re such a nasty shit sometimes.” Niall grinned, running fingers messily through Zayn’s perfectly styled hair before returning to the pool table. 

“If you weren’t also a terribly lazy shit, you could come see him you know? Tomorrow morning?” Liam’s eyes stared down at his hands, unable to hide his nerves. Even Harry could pick it up, drunk as he was. 

Zayn pulled a face as if someone had just cracked open a rotten egg. “Fuck that. You don’t drink, meaning you can wake up at ridiculous times of the morning without wanting to shoot yourself in the face.” 

“If you stop drinking now, you’ll be fine.” Liam suggested hopefully, and Harry grinned because he recognised that face. It was the face Liam would pull in High School to get away with handing in late assignments or showing up late to class. The one with wide eyes and a quivering lip and the slightest drop to his jaw.

“Fuck you. And fine.” Zayn groaned. “Harry?”

“Nah, working.”

 

When Louis finally called again, it was like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t acted in an incredibly odd way or that it hadn’t been four days since they last spoke.

“Could I give you my actual number Louis?” Harry asked. He’d been thinking about it a lot in the last four days. The guilt that Louis had been paying him such a ridiculous amount of money for so long had eaten away at his conscience, leaving a gaping hole that doubt and self-hatred desperately wanted to fill. He also realised that if Louis had his real number, he would have Louis’, and could call and text him if he ever felt worried. But he didn’t tell Louis that. He just said “I feel like we’re friends and I don’t want you to pay to talk to me anymore.” 

Louis was silent, and Harry half expected him to hang up the phone again. When he finally spoke, it was slowly and carefully. “Can you promise not to call me? I don’t… I don’t like the unexpected.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Harry answered, a little too quick and desperate. “You can just call me. Can we text?”

And it was after another beat that Louis answered. “Yeah, that should be okay. But if I tell you to stop, can you promise to stop?”

“Yeah, of course!” Harry was nodding along now, grinning like an idiot. He knew the embarrassment of feeling so much excitement and pleasure from such a simple thing would hit him later, but right now he didn’t care. It would be the first personal detail Louis shared with him since his name, and that was worth celebrating.


	5. Chapter 5

Louis really didn’t know why he did it. He liked that he got to choose when he and Harry spoke. It made him feel safe that the only thing Harry really knew about him was his name and his opinions on trivial things. Louis paid, which meant he could talk about whatever he wanted and it was Harry’s job to listen. If they were friends, like Harry said, then that called for a whole new set of rules; ones that Louis didn’t particularly want to follow. Ultimately, he didn’t want Harry to have expectations because he just knew he wouldn’t be able to live up to them. Harry might expect Louis to tell him more, he might expect that they meet up, he might _demand_ that Louis come over and get mad when Louis says he can’t. 

Louis liked how things were, but for some silly reason he told Harry his phone number and didn’t deny that they were friends, and let Harry hang up the phone and call him straight back afterwards. 

Louis listened to his phone ring and watched it buzz along the table, struggling to draw in breaths until it stopped. He knew that Harry was calling him, he had said that it would be alright not two seconds before, but it was still nerve-wracking. It had been a long time since anybody had called him. They’d all just given up eventually. 

What if Harry gave up? What if Harry thought that Louis had given him the wrong number and never called him back? What if Harry got mad at Louis because he thought Louis lied, and blocked him from calling him through the agency? What if Louis never got to talk to Harry ever again?

After a minute of waiting, his heart creeping higher and higher up his throat, the phone began to ring again and Louis answered it before he could think about it. 

“It feels different already, doesn’t it?” Harry said not a second later. 

Louis sighed and nodded and shook his head before finally replying. “Yeah.”

“What do you want to talk about then?” 

“I don’t want to talk.” Louis admitted, clenching his eyes shut because Harry might not like that. He might expect Louis to tell him things now that they were _friends_. 

“Alright, want me to talk?”

Louis let out the breath he had been holding and felt every inch of him relax. Not just his body but his mind, too, his thoughts slowing down at the same rate as his racing heart. “Yeah, I would.”

 

Nothing really changed except the cost of his phone bill. He still called Harry almost nightly, and they still spoke about whatever Louis wanted to speak about. Harry still asked personal questions sometimes, but didn’t push it when Louis refused to answer. They texted too. Louis didn’t mind that so much, because he didn’t particularly have to read the messages that Harry sent him. He always did, but he liked that he had the choice of whether he would or not. Harry always replied straight away, too. 

But Louis was still always waiting for things to change. He still got nervous when he hung up the phone, sometimes thinking about it for hours after their talks. 

It was after one of those nights, when he couldn’t get to sleep until well past midnight, that his body clock forgot to wake him up early like it usually did. He woke instead to the sound of a knock on his door, and his first reaction was surprise. His second was bone-chilling dread, because no one but Niall and the postman ever knocked and they were always expected. Louis jumped when three more knocks sounded at the door, louder than the first, and he forced his legs off the bed and his feet onto the floor. His toes felt numb, dragging along the cold tile floor as Louis approached the door that was being knocked on again for the third time. His breathing grew quicker on each step, and his head felt heavier and his heart beat harder. 

He looked through the peephole and must have uttered a noise because the boy on the other side of the door started talking.

“Hello?” he said. The _boy_. The beautiful boy with lovely arms and lovely legs and the loveliest of faces. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” 

His voice was nice too. It was smooth and calming and Louis wanted to see what he looked like when he spoke. 

“Umm, I think you’re there so can you just tell me if you’re alright? I’m not asking to be let in or anything.” He’d said, and Louis shook his head and stepped back from the door. “I know you don’t come out so I know you’re in there but you weren’t at the window this morning so I’m worried.”

Louis kept backing up until he hit a wall with a thump, and the boy just kept talking. 

“Slip me a note under the door if you like. I just need you to tell me something.”

This was not meant to be happening. This didn’t happen. The boy was meant to be in the park, warming down after his jog because it was 8am and that was what always happened at 8am.

“I’m going to have to come in if you don’t tell me! You’re not going to be one of those stories on the news, another body found months after actually dying.”

He couldn’t come in. His house was the only place he could be because he could control everything that happened inside it. If the boy came in, he might not leave. Louis won’t be able to get him to leave. 

“Seriously, you have five seconds to say something or do something or I’m pushing the door down.” 

Louis tried. He really, really tried to say something but nothing would come out of his mouth. He wanted to bang on the door to show that he was alive but he couldn’t move. His back was plastered against the wall and he couldn’t say anything and the boy yelled “I’m coming in” and banged hard into the door. Louis watched with wide eyes and his lips pressed tight together as the door rattled and shook and finally banged open.

Louis saw beautiful chocolate eyes and sweaty skin and bloody knuckles before everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

“Tell me about your hands.” 

Harry looked down at the one resting on his thigh and wondered how the hell he could make hands sound sexy. “They’re big. _Really_ big. I’ve got long fingers and short nails and…”

“Do you chew them? Do you chew your nails?” the man groaned, breathing loud into the receiver. 

Fuck, what the hell did this guy want him to say? “Sometimes.” He decided to keep it vague. “I cut them or chew them. I’ve got to keep them short, so it doesn’t hurt so much when I stick my fingers inside myself.”

The guy moaned. “What are your hands doing right now?”

“I’ve got my fingers wrapped around my cock and I’m stroking it so slowly.”

“What about the other one?”

Harry’s first reaction was to answer _holding the phone you idiot,_ but he’d learnt to stop himself quite a while ago. He pissed off a lot of customers early on with his snark. “I’ve got a finger up my ass, just the one because I need you to tell me what to do.” Harry groaned, and just like that they were back to doing what he was used to. Just another customer telling him to touch himself in different places and Harry groaning like he was actually doing it. No more talk of fingernails. 

He’d had a lot of creeps this week; some with strange fetishes and some with violent attitudes, and one guy with ridiculously high stamina that wanted Harry to beg to be fucked until he was in tears. 

Despite wanting nothing more to go to sleep afterwards, he was glad when Louis called him. He spoke endlessly of a book that he had finished that day, and what he had made for dinner, and the boy across the road again. Harry resisted the urge to ask why Louis wasn’t working, or whether he made such an extravagant meal because he had guests, or tell him that he himself was actually a pretty good looking guy too and might even be more attractive than the jogger in the park. But he didn’t, because he had learnt that those sorts of things would make Louis silent or stuttery. So Harry just listened to Louis’ voice, to the patterns and intonation and how he said his _t_ s and _e_ s and _i_ s. Louis spoke a lot, only stopping when he realised it was midnight already and he should be trying to get to sleep. So Harry let him go with a sigh and took another work call. 

 

He was on his way to work on the Tube when he got a call from Liam.

“Hey, no one’s answering their phone so I need you to help me with something.”

Harry frowned. “Why was I the last resort?”

Liam sighed and muttered “You know the least about it. Alright, so you know how Zayn mentioned the guy that looks at me through his window but never leaves the house?” Harry vaguely remembered something about it, and he told Liam as much, so the boy continued. “Well he wasn't there today and I’m really freaked out.”

Harry frowned. “Why does that freak you out?”

“Because he’s there every morning, and has been for months, so I’m just really freaked out. Like, what if he’s tripped over in the shower or had a seizure and is slowly dying in there? And he’s only found when it’s too late because a dog walking by sniffs out the one month decay of the dead body?”

“Fuck, Liam, calm down.” Harry laughs. “That’s extremely unlikely.”

“It’s possible though, yeah? I’ve seen the stories. What do you reckon I should do?”

“Just knock on his door and ask.” 

“But what if he doesn’t answer? Should I call the ambulance?”

“Climb through the window or something, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll try that.” 

 

Not five minutes later, when Harry was still in the same crammed corner of the Tube, Liam called back.

“I think I’ve killed him.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Everyone said Zayn was the dramatic one, but he had nothing on Liam.

“Seriously, he’s not moving. He just fell back and hit his head on the wall and it’s got a fucking dint. The plaster is concaved and he’s just lying here and shit, I’ve killed someone haven’t I?”

Harry straightened up, eyes wide with shock because this was beginning to sound pretty damn serious. “Where are you?”

“Just head over to mine in Paddington. How far away are you?”

“I passed the station a few minutes ago, I’ll be there soon.”

 

He was there in under fifteen minutes, and Harry spotted Liam sitting outside a wide open door just across the park from Liam’s building.

Liam’s eyes widened impossibly when he spotted Harry, and he jumped up and dragged him in by the wrist. “He woke up and yelled something and ran into that room.”

“He probably just told you to get the fuck out. Which is what we should do. We’re trespassing.” Harry said, but Liam wasn’t having any of it. He was pushing Harry to the closed door 

“What if he’s got a concussion? You’re a nurse. You need to check on him.”

“I’m studying to be one, I’m not one yet.” Harry grumbled under his breath. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door. “Hello?”

“Please get out.” A muffled voice sounded from the room.

“Look, we should really go. He’s obviously freaked out.” Harry whispered to Liam, who was right next to him leaning on the door, ear pressed tight against the wood.

“Louis? I’m sorry I scared you. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Are you alright?” Liam yelled instead of answering.

There was silence, until the small voice said “How do you know my name?”

“Niall told me.” 

Harry could just make out a strange whining sound and some heavy breathing. “Louis is it? We’re leaving now, okay? Sorry to have scared you, Liam won’t be bothering you again.”

Liam was about to protest, but the voice from the other side of the door cut through the silence. “Harry?” 

And Harry’s eyes widened and flickered between Liam and the door as he took a few steps back. Because he thought he recognised that voice and his heart leapt when Liam said the name but he didn’t think it was possible. Liam couldn’t be Louis’ jogger, and Louis couldn’t be Liam’s watcher, but it made too much sense to be coincidental. 

“Yeah.” Harry replied, looking into Liam’s confused _beautiful chocolate_ eyes and breathed in deep. “It’s me, Louis. We’ll go, alright?” And Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he read the text from Louis that said nothing more then _Sorry_. “Don’t be.” he yelled back through the door as he and Liam began to walk backwards. Harry stopped momentarily, hoping and waiting for Louis to ask him to stay but he never did. He wanted Harry to leave.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen people write trigger warnings for fic like this, so I figured I'd just start warning you of things that might be upsetting.
> 
> There's a whole lot of catastrophic thinking and panicking, and some mention of death and people who die. Sooo it's not a happy chappy.

Louis didn’t lift his head out from between his knees until well after he heard the front door close, and even then he couldn’t stand up. He sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, ignoring the biting chill that soaked through his trousers, because his legs felt too much like liquid to be able to stand. In a blink of an eye, everything had been ruined. All of Louis’ defences had been torn down, along with the illusion as his house as the embodiment of safety. Even in what was meant to be his _home_ , he couldn’t control everything. 

He couldn’t handle outside anymore because anything could happen. Too many unpredictable events, too many people that always did the unexpected, too many places where Louis could get stuck and feel trapped and break down. But at home, he had his routine and his distractions and with those, he was safe. When he started to think bad thoughts, he scrubbed the walls until his mind was just as clean, or ran on the treadmill so he could have a valid reason for why his heart was beating so fast. He had books to get lost in; to act as portals to other worlds so he didn’t have to live in his own. He had the window to watch out of, to see people and places and things from a distance safe from harm. From his house he could talk to Niall; who never passed through the doorway, who sometimes made conversation, who always kept his distance. But why couldn’t Niall have been enough? Why did he have to seek out someone else to talk to? Why did he have to find Harry?

Louis pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the ringing that was beginning to sound in his head. His thoughts were flying too fast for him to actually _think_ , to come up with something rational to grasp onto before he got out of hand. His breath was already quickening, and his hands were shaking, and everything felt hot. He lay on the floor, on his stomach to bask in the cool of the tiles. He pressed a cheek down and closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing with a bit of concentration. But that was when his phone went off; just a slight vibration in his pocket, but it was enough to push Louis over the edge. 

 

He used to work at a bank. It wasn’t the ideal job for him, considering there were constant customer complaints, or people in tears because they didn’t have enough money, or people with so much more than him. His step dad got if for him, when he dropped out of Uni because everything was too hard. Not the classes or the assignments but the people and their expectations and concern for only themselves. He couldn’t be around so much stress, even if it wasn’t his own, because people lashed out when they were stressed. They became unpredictable, and Louis couldn’t handle that. 

His stepdad worked there with him, so they would catch a taxi together. Louis couldn’t handle the bus or the Tube, always worried that if he wanted to get out, he couldn’t. It wasn’t determined by him when the bus or underground train stopped, but a taxi driver always stopped when he asked. 

His stepdad was his boss, so if Louis ever needed to get out then he could. When things became too hard, when his palms grew sweaty and his vision blurred and his heart beat so quickly that he was sure it was going to jump out of his throat, he could escape to the toilets and hide until everything came back to him. His stepdad could calm him, or call his Mum to do the same, and he would be able to face the customers again. He was getting better, albeit slowly, when the accident happened. When his parents were hit by a car and killed and Louis learnt the true meaning of loneliness. And all his fears were confirmed; that anything could happen and people don’t get a say when it comes to life or death. 

So he locked himself inside after the funeral, supporting himself with his small savings and the large inheritance he was left. At least he could survive this way. He only wanted to stay alive, and he could do it in his house because he was convinced that he was safe if he had all the control. That he could make a routine so everything was predictable. That he could find distractions to give him the slightest bit of happiness. 

But that all just led him to Harry, who stuffed up everything. He was just meant to be another distraction, like Niall and the jogger and the characters in his books. But he became real, and cared, and had an image of Louis in his mind that was most definitely ruined. 

Louis should be happy. That things could go back to the way they were. That he could go back to his routine and not worry about texts and calls and friendship rules. But he didn’t want that. He wanted Harry to like him and help him and want him right back. 

So Louis pulled his phone out of his pocket and dropped it down the toilet, now void of any way to contact the boy he was beginning to think he needed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I'm not sure how to warn you about things in this chapter without giving away what happens. 
> 
> I can tell you that there's abuse of power I guess?? This is where Harry's own complication kicks in. I'm really sorry if this warning is too vague!

Harry kept his promise to Louis, no matter how many unanswered texts he sent. It was an incredibly hard thing to resist, but he didn’t call the other boy once. 

It had been six days since the incident; since he’d left Louis alone and scared and vulnerable. He shouldn’t have done that. 

Harry had been well aware of the fact that he didn’t know much about Louis, but he never saw the harm in it. He didn’t _need_ to know about his job or his family or his friends, but now he wished he knew those things because he just wanted to _understand_. He wanted to get Louis and how his mind worked because then he’d know how to fix it. He could reconnect the broken wires and make everything right for him. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Louis the way he was, because in all honesty he didn’t actually _know_ the true Louis. He had just known how Louis projected himself and he’d filled in all the rest. He wasn’t disappointed to learn that Louis was none of the things Harry imagined, because he still wasn’t _sure_. Louis could be all of Harry’s ideals personified, but Harry didn’t know because he didn’t know much of anything. All he had known was that Louis was sweet and funny and a little sad, and all he knew now was that Louis was hiding from something. 

Harry just wanted to find out what that something was so he could take it away. He just wanted Louis to be happy.

 

“Have you seen him?” was the first thing Harry asked when Liam came to visit. He’d had a stressful enough day without wanting to add to it with taking calls from creeps, so he invited his friends over for a few drinks. Liam was the first to arrive, as usual.

“Yeah, but it’s different. He doesn’t really seem to watch me, he just makes sure to be at the window so I can see him and then he goes. I think he’s worried I’ll freak out and break into his house again.”

Harry nodded and Liam chewed at his lip, before opening his mouth and closing it again. Harry grunted “Well spit it out.”

“What do you think of him now?” Liam asked in a rush, blush tainting his cheeks. 

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. “It just feels like I never actually knew him. I feel like I’ve let him down because I didn’t figure it out, and I’m scared that he won’t want to ever talk to me again.”

Liam nodded, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before asking “You don’t wish he was different? You’re not disappointed?” 

“I’m not disappointed, but I wish he was different. Just because I think he’d want that, wouldn’t he? I guess if he wished he was different, I’d wish it too. If he never wants to leave his house again then I could deal with that. I just don’t think that’s what he would want.”

“Do you still like him? Like how you did before, I mean?” Liam asked carefully, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bubble of annoyance burst behind his eyes. They were talking about a _before_ Louis and an _after_ Louis, as if they weren’t the same person. Louis hadn’t changed since Harry had been talking to him, so it would be wrong of Harry’s feelings to change just because he knew a little more. If he liked Louis _before_ , then he would most certainly like him after. When he said as much to Liam, the boy nodded. “I think I do to, still.” 

Harry straightened his back and grimaced, towering over Liam who was still sagging in his chair. “But you don’t know him. You just know what he looks like, and that he never leaves his house and that he’s a little fucked up. Are those the things you like him for?”

Liam shook his head quickly and avoided Harry’s darkening eyes. “No, that’s not it. I… I don’t know, I just do. I care about him.”

“You feel sorry for him and you want to help him. It’s different.” 

“It’s nothing different to what you want to do then. You’re talking of wanting what he wants but until a week ago you never even knew what that was.” 

And Liam had him there. Harry didn’t say as much, choosing instead to text Niall to hurry the fuck up because it was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to run to Louis’ house and break down the door himself. 

 

Harry still found himself checking his phone during lectures, expecting Louis to call him for their nightly talk. He held it in his palm under the small desk that held his notebook and pen, looking down at it every now and then because he thought he felt it vibrate. He’d been in the middle of swiping at his phone screen to make sure he hadn’t missed a call when his name was called. He looked down to where the lecturer was at the front of the theatre and nodded because the man had asked him over. 

Harry picked up his bag and tried to dodge all the other students who were heading in the opposite direction, desperate to get out so they could go home. It was always a race to leave after night lectures.

“Yes sir?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised. The man looked a lot different up close. From afar his features were a bit of a blur, but up close Harry noticed the receding hairline and slightly hooked nose and dark blue eyes.

The man sat on his desk and eyed Harry slowly, eyes tracing up and down his body languidly. “I know what you do after classes.”

Harry frowned. “Sorry?”

“I was in the bathroom after last week’s lecture when you took one of your _calls_.” He muttered, voice heavy with judgement. 

Harry flushed red and felt a little disgusted himself. “Sorry, I don’t usually do that here.” He was desperate that night. He’d taken Louis’ call and afterwards another customer rang straight away. So he skipped the rest of the lecture to take the call in the bathroom, in need of the money because his phone bill had to be paid by the end of the week.

The man snorted. “Of course not. You do it at home, in private so you can be _alone_. So you can touch yourself to the voices of strangers telling you what to do, am I right?”

Harry shook his head no, unable to get any words out. Fuck, but this was embarrassing. His lecturer whose name he couldn’t even fucking remember was disgusted at him for what he did in his free time. He was too shocked to stand up for himself, to tell the man to fuck off because it wasn’t any of his damn business.

“I’ve noticed you didn’t pass your last exam.” He suddenly said, and Harry welcomed the change of conversation.

“No, I only just failed. If I get more then 70% on my next one I’ll be able to pass the unit.” Harry said in a rush, because the man was still eyeing him darkly. 

“You shouldn’t aim to ‘just pass’, Mr Styles.”

“I know, I don’t.” Harry nodded. “I’ve just been really busy and…” Harry stopped, because the man had reached out and wrapped his sweaty hand around Harry’s wrist. Harry could only stare down at it, eyebrows clenching together in confusion.

“What if I were to say that I could help you out?” 

Harry looked up at his lecturer, wanting desperately to believe that this man was offering tutoring or some special consideration but knowing full well that his words were poisoned with something much more sinister. “I think I can manage on my own, sir.” Harry said, voice strained so his words came out in a near whisper.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think you can. I’m starting to think that your first test answers might need another look-over. I remember I had been especially generous while marking it. That wasn’t very fair of me, was it?” he said, and Harry shook his head, wanting so bad to tug his arm away from the man but putting all his effort into resisting the urge. 

“No, sir.”

“So how about we come to an agreement? I help you out with your marks, and you help me out in another way.”

“What kind of way?” Harry asked, despite not wanting to hear the answer.

“Just something that would require your big mouth and professional expertise.”

Harry shook his head and the man let go of his arm. "Think on it, Mr Styles. I wouldn't want to see you fail another exam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know there won't be any dub con or non con stuff in this!!!


	9. Chapter 9

Liam slipped Louis a note under the door two weeks after the intrusion, and Louis found himself grateful for the contact. 

He didn’t realise it would be so hard for him to lose Harry.

The nights seemed so much longer, and his ritual had lost all significance. His bath didn’t calm him; he found himself thinking about Harry and his voice and trying to remember what it sounded like. He knew it was raspy and deep and slow, but he couldn’t remember _how_ raspy or deep or slow, and his immediate thought would be to call Harry for a reminder but he couldn’t. 

No matter how long he spent in his gym, he wouldn’t be tired enough by the evening. It only seemed to exhaust his body but speed up his mind. The characters in his books no longer acted as a distraction, because Louis unconsciously found something very Harry in all of them. He avoided the window as much as he could in case Liam was out there. 

Louis was mostly embarrassed whenever he thought of Liam. Embarrassed that Liam had seen him like that, for starters, but also that Louis had admitted to Harry that he had a crush on his good friend and Harry could have told him. It could explain why Liam was always watching the window with a wary look on his face. Maybe he was freaked out that Louis watched him, now that he knew what Louis was like, but Louis couldn’t exactly stop. If he stopped, Liam might try to break into his house again.

The note said:

_Louis, I’m really sorry for last week and I never meant to hurt you. I was just worried and expected the worst. I get like that sometimes, and I guess you do too? I’d really like to talk to you and apologise in person but I understand if you can’t. I just think we could be friends. I’d like that. Liam._

Louis’ initial reaction was to throw it in the bin and out of his thoughts, but something stopped him. It might have been how tired he was of being lonely, with no one to talk to except a delivery boy who was just doing his job. It might have been because Liam seemed honest and hadn’t come knocking at the door since. It was more then likely that Louis was feeling a bit brave that day, and was sick of being sick, and wanted to make the smallest of steps with monumental significance. He wanted to know if he could handle it; a stranger inside his house. One that he was prepared for and had invited in, that had cared enough to break in because he thought Louis was in danger. If Louis could do that, then he could feel accomplished and good about himself for even just a day, hopefully chasing away the grief that he was feeling for Harry. 

 

Agreeing to let Liam into his house was made easier by a talk he had with Niall. 

When the Irish boy dropped off his few groceries, Louis asked how he knew him.

“He went to Uni with my mate Zayn, who I met through Harry.” Niall explained, friendly smile plastered on his face. It looked real, but Louis couldn’t be sure. 

“How do you know Harry?” he asked, feeling his heart quicken at the mention of the name. 

“Uni too.” Niall looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t push and Louis appreciated that. 

“Liam asked if we could talk.” Louis admitted, and Niall’s eyebrows shot up. “If I did let him inside, do you think you could come too?” 

Niall nodded eagerly, and Louis sighed out the breath he had been holding with anticipation. “Of course mate. Will I tell him? When would you like to do it? I’m free every night.”

“Maybe tomorrow night?” Louis replied, feeling his head swell up but ignoring the sensation because this was going to happen. He was going to push himself through it because if he could do this then it meant he could do _something_ about his problem. He didn’t want to be stuck like this forever. “Could you ask if he’s free too? I don’t really have any way of contacting him unless I hang a sign at the window.” 

Niall laughed and Louis blushed because he realised it was a slightly funny thing to say. It was true though. “Yeah, I’ll text him now.” And he pulled his phone out of his pocket and jabbed at a few keys. He hit send, looked up to smile at Louis, and his phone beeped instantaneously. “He says he can make it.” 

Louis’ stomach flipped, but he didn’t feel anxious. It felt more like excitement. So he grinned, trying to show Niall that he could be strong and happy too. It must have worked because Niall grinned right back.

 

The nerves hit him the following day. He had ten hours to make his house presentable and to cook a fantastic meal and shower and shave and actually choose something to wear that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. He knew that it would be easy for anyone else, but he was so meticulous and wanted to go through everything twice. 

Ten hours had never felt so long. 

Louis’ eyes were constantly darting up to the clock, and it was like he himself was on fast forward while time stood still. He cleaned everything in half the time it usually took him, despite scrubbing walls extra hard and using too much cleaner in the bathroom. The place reeked of bleach and it was impossible to find a single piece of dirt or a mark that needed to be removed. 

He’d finished it all by noon, which meant he had three extra hours to kill. Which meant free time to think and worry and pull himself into a downward spiral. He had three panic attacks that resulted in him lying down on the kitchen tiles, and was so close to putting a note on the door to tell them to go away. But he didn’t, because his desire to prove to himself that he could do _something_ was larger than his fear of anything going wrong. Like them hating him, or Louis embarrassing himself, or Liam and Niall refusing to leave. It was going to happen, no matter how much hair he pulled out over it or how many times he passed out from lack of oxygen. 

Once it was late enough to start making dinner, things became easier. He could distract himself with cooking mince and cutting up tomatoes and layering the lasagne like how he learnt from his Mum’s handwritten recipe book. When it was in the oven he had a shower, revelling in the rare feeling of hot water rushing down his back and steaming up the bathroom. 

He towel-dried his hair and let it hang over his eyes. He pulled on black jeans and a plain striped t-shirt and some shoes he used to wear all the time at Uni because everyone had them. He did all this before the lasagne was even finished cooking, so he prepared a salad and started desert and soon there was a gentle knock on the door. 

Heat rolled over Louis, burning his face red and scorching his neck and boiling his stomach. 

But he swallowed it down. He breathed in and out and in and out, focusing on the cool air that he was inhaling into his lungs. He dried his sweaty palms on his jeans, forced his eyes open because they’d reflexively shut, and lifted his feet, one after the other, pulling himself into the direction of the front door. 

 

Liam and Niall had entered the house slowly and carefully, eyes roaming over everything except Louis himself. They kept a smile pulled across their face, friendly yet clearly forced. They greeted him with simple hellos and nodded when Louis told them to come in. 

Then a real smile lit up Niall’s face, evident from how the corners of his eyes pulled up just the slightest. “It smells amazing in here Louis!” 

Liam agreed and Louis blushed and thanked them quietly, and soon he had two boys sitting at his parent’s dining table, watching him without actually looking. 

“You look lovely Louis.” Liam said as Louis rushed off to the kitchen to fetch garlic bread. The space allowed him to slow his breathing again and control his shaking hands.

“Thankyou.” Louis whispered and took a seat across from the boys.

Niall grinned and reached out for a piece of bread. “This is like a proper restaurant!” 

Louis nodded because it felt like all he had been saying so far was thanks. “I made lasagne.” He said, because it was the only thing he could come up with.

“Oh, I love lasagne.” Liam said cheerily.

“Me too. It’s my Mum’s recipe.” Louis said carefully, and Niall grinned and started talking about his mother's cooking and that was how the first conversation started. 

 

Louis noticed that neither boy asked questions, simply offering up information and waiting to see if Louis had anything to contribute. It was a simple gesture, but it took off so much pressure. He never felt put on the spot, or like he could say something wrong, or that he was being judged. They praised him about the meal excessively, making Louis turn red with pride rather than embarrassment. Louis brought out the pudding he made, and made a pot of tea. It was the first time in a long time that Louis actually felt normal.


	10. Chapter 10

Everyone found out about it soon enough. 

Harry had told Zayn, who told Niall, who told Liam.

Then Liam convinced Harry to talk to the University. 

The University spoke to the lecturer, who obviously denied everything and claimed that Harry had made it up because he had failed his last exam. 

The University asked Harry if that was true, and Harry burst into tears. 

“All I want is to be able to change classes without it affecting my academic record. I need to graduate this year.” He’d begged and sobbed until they agreed. 

He didn’t have any kind of evidence, so the lecturer wasn’t charged with anything or suspended, but the woman he spoke to promised to watch the man carefully. 

Harry nodded, because he understood. He was expecting a lot less; to be called a liar and forced to stay in the class and have to put up with the man’s snide remarks. So he was content with the outcome; not happy, just content. 

But he wished that was all there was to it. Word somehow got around eventually. Someone had seen Harry enter an office, then the lecturer, then Harry again. The lecturer had muttered something to Harry both times they had passed. He had said “See if they believe you” the first time and then “I will get what I want” the next. 

And Harry had thought he was the only person who had heard it, but he hadn’t. 

So word spread around quickly, first just around the class and then the campus. That someone had been harassed and the perpetrator wasn’t punished.

Harry was glad that the rumour that was spread wasn’t a lie, that Harry _had_ been harassed by a lecturer who _had_ got let off without punishment. A name wasn’t let out, but people knew that it would be someone who changed classes mid-term. He was grateful that he took the night classes because that was the least busy time, but it still felt like everyone knew.

Every second he was in his class it felt like he was being watched. It felt like every single pair of eyes in the room were trained on him and he couldn’t handle it. 

It all happened in a little under a week. The incident itself, the talk to administration, the rumour spreading around. It all happened so quickly, and Harry didn’t know how to deal with it.

He’d never been one to have negative attention. He’d been popular in High School and people knew who he was at Uni, but now it just felt like they were all judging him. Like they knew what he did for money and they thought he was disgusting. It was the first time he ever felt truly ashamed of himself.

He pushed through all his classes because he needed to, but he couldn’t concentrate. His face felt like it was constantly on fire, and his stomach was constantly churning, and his head pounded a heavy beat that was impossible to ignore. 

He really needed to talk to Louis. He wanted to ask him why he was too scared to leave his house because he didn’t want to get like that. He needed to hear Louis’ voice and listen to him ramble on about books and food but not the jogger. Not Liam. 

He used to like hearing about the jogger. Louis got so quiet like he was a schoolgirl whispering to her friends about her crush. Harry could hear the smile and the excitement in his voice, and even though it was for someone else, it made him happy. Harry liked to hear that Louis could feel that way about someone, because he liked to think that maybe Louis could feel that way about him. But the thought that Louis had been talking about one of his _best friends_ made him furious. It made him angry that Louis was crushing on someone who he’d only ever seen, while Harry had been talking to him almost every day. He wanted to lash out and scream at Liam because the only reason he even liked Louis was because he had a hero complex and wanted to rescue him. He wondered why he wasn’t enough. 

 

Harry found himself at Louis’ door one night after Uni, when he was feeling particularly shitty. He’d heard someone at the back of the lecture theatre laugh and he immediately thought it was at him. But it wasn’t, and he was being paranoid, and he hated that he was beginning to get so jumpy. 

So as he was riding the tube back home, his mind wandered to Louis, like it always did. But this time it was because he was angry. 

Louis had said that he would tell Harry to stop if he wanted him to stop, but he hadn’t. He’d just ignored Harry’s texts and Harry thought that maybe Louis wanted them because he never said stop. But it had been two weeks now, of Harry texting Louis encouraging messages and apologies and smiley faces, and he hadn’t heard a single thing. He was mad because he didn’t understand; why Louis was ignoring him, why he still found encouragement in Louis’ silence, and like always, why Louis liked Liam. So when the tube stopped at Paddington, Harry jumped off. He walked to Liam’s house, then crossed the park and knocked at the door that he remembered was Louis'. 

His forehead creased because he could hear voices inside. Familiar voices. He knocked harder and the house went silent. 

He pressed his ear against the door and listened to strange, undecipherable noises and whispers. Then the door was wrenched open and Harry’s eyes grew wide because it was Niall standing inside Louis’ house with a frown on his face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and Harry’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“Me? What the fuck are you doing here Niall? Where is he?” Harry demanded, and pushed past him. 

“He’s hiding in the kitchen.” Niall replied quickly, and he sounded so frightened that Harry stopped and turned back to his friend. “You’ve got to go Harry, you’re really freaking him out.” 

“Why are you here though?” Harry asked, sounding as defeated as he felt. 

“Louis invited me over, and Liam too.”

“Where the fuck is Liam?”

“Harry, you have to leave.” Niall begged. “This is incredible, what Louis’ doing, he’s been amazing. You don’t want to be the one to ruin it, do you?”

Harry flinched. “Ruin what?”

“His progress. This is the first time in two fucking years that he’s done anything like this. This is monumental.” Niall explained it with so much excitement that Harry’s stomach dropped. 

This was huge, that was obvious, and Harry really wished he could feel happy for Louis like Niall clearly was. But all he felt was disappointment. That he wasn’t the one that Louis made the leap for; that he wasn’t even there to be a part of it; that he himself was such a selfish prick because he wasn’t flushed with pride and achievement like Niall was. That right now all he wanted to do was pull Liam out of the house and fight him over Louis, even though he knew that wasn’t what he needed. Louis needed someone fighting _for_ him, but that someone wasn't going to be Harry.


	11. Chapter 11

Louis could hear it all from where he was with Liam, sitting on the floor of the kitchen. He heard Harry demanding to see him, and he couldn’t deny that the way his stomach flipped at the deep, smoky sound of his voice meant something. He’d missed it, and he’d been desperate to hear it again, and there it was. On the other side of the kitchen door.

When he’d heard the pounding at the door, he’d looked to Liam and Niall because immediately he thought it had something to do with them. That they’d invited someone else over, or they’d planned some big scheme to get into his house and – he stopped, before his thoughts could become any more irrational. Because he knew what shock looked like, and it was written all over their faces. 

“Do you want us to see who it is?” Niall asked carefully, and when there was another, louder bang on the door, Louis nodded.

“Do you need to hide somewhere?” Liam had asked, and again Louis nodded because he couldn’t form words. His brain was putting everything into controlling the fear that was pulsing through his veins. 

So Liam tried to help keep him calm with kind words and deep breaths as Harry and Niall's conversation turned heated, but when Liam reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, Louis flipped. He pushed himself up and rushed out of the room, straight into Harry. 

Who was so tall and big all over. But not in the scary, looming kind of way. More like in the way that he remembered his favourite teddy hovered over him when he was a child. It was one of those large, novelty things that his Dad won for him at a fair when he was six, and Louis remembered feeling overjoyed because even when he stood up on his tiptoes the teddy was taller than him. 

Harry blinked large green eyes, and his big soft lips formed an O, and one of his big hands ran through his wild mane of curly hair.

“I'm sorry.” Harry muttered, and for once Louis wasn’t thinking. He was just _doing_ ; he was inching closer to Harry until the toes of their shoes were touching, then looking up into worried green eyes, then wrapping his arms around the large boy’s waist and squeezing. Squeezing until his cheek was pressed to Harry’s chest and his hands were touching his own elbows behind Harry’s back and Harry’s chin rested on the top of his head. Louis didn’t remember people being so warm.

“Is- are you okay Louis?” he felt Harry’s voice grumble from deep in his chest.

Louis nodded _yes_ , then shook his head _no_ , then shrugged his shoulders because he was everything. He was okay right now with Harry, but he wasn’t okay with his life, and he wasn’t sure if he was what Harry considered okay. But then he nodded, because Harry would have meant right now and right now he was definitely okay. 

“I didn’t want to see you, but I did. And I was worried that you would come here to see me, but I was worried you wouldn’t. And I wanted you not to care enough to come, but I wanted you to care enough and I was worried you didn’t and I don’t want you to go yet.” Louis murmured into Harry’s chest. 

He felt Harry chuckle against his cheek and smiled. 

“I’m not going until you ask me to.” Harry assured him. 

Louis didn’t pull back until he heard the front door thump shut. 

“Niall and Liam just left.” Harry explained, and Louis waited for the fear and nausea and sweating to start but it didn’t. He still felt warm and comfortable and complete. “This house smells amazing. Like tomatoes and basil.”

“I made lasagne, if you want some?” 

 

Louis just watched as Harry shoved it all in, seeming not to care that his lips were smothered in sauce and pasta was hanging out of his mouth. 

“Can I say something?” Harry asked, and stopped until Louis nodded. “You have a really beautiful smile.” 

And heat spread over Louis’ face and neck and chest. But it was the good kind of heat. It was warm and tingly, not sharp and burning. 

Harry grinned and Louis felt himself return it. He’d been smiling a lot more than he was used to in the last few hours, and his cheeks were beginning to ache. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Louis nodded. “How – umm, don’t worry.”

Harry looked back down at his plate and stabbed at his salad, so Louis said “You can ask me.” 

“Just,” Harry looked up, eyes meeting Louis’ before dropping down to his whitening fingers. “How come you didn’t answer any of my texts?” 

And this time the heat that spread over Louis was uncomfortable and prickly. He breathed through the embarrassment before replying “I broke my phone after that day.”

And Harry laughed. He laughed long and loud and a little bit of sauce from his mouth went flying and Louis grinned. He didn’t get what was so funny, but he felt like smiling so he did. “That’s amazing. How did you do it?”

Louis blushed. “I flushed it down the toilet.”

Harry put a hand over his mouth to try to contain his snorting laughter, but it still escaped through his fingers. “That’s seriously gold. And very dramatic of you.”

“I was feeling pretty dramatic.” Louis near whispered, and Harry sobered up but Louis wished he didn’t. He liked watching Harry laugh because the tips of his ears and the end of his nose turned a little pink. 

“Are you feeling at all dramatic now?” Harry asked, but continued because Louis must have looked as confused as he felt. “Like, how you were feeling that day, do you feel that now?”

And Louis didn’t even have to think, he just shook his head quick and sure. “I feel good.” And he breathed and decided that he should be honest while he could get words out. “I’ve got a niggling thought in the very back of my mind that I’m not, and I can’t stop it but right now I can ignore it.”

Harry nodded. “I’ve got that.” And he sighed and sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. “But I want to hear more about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I thought y'all needed a bit of fluffy respite after all those depressing things. 
> 
> BUT EVERYTHING ISN'T ALL MAGICALLY FIXED FOR THEM JUST YET!!!
> 
> Now, tell me how much you love me after that hug ;) hahaha xoxoxoxoxo


	12. Chapter 12

Harry fell asleep on the couch.

He hadn’t meant to, but he and Louis were just sitting in the lounge, Louis cross legged on the floor and he himself splayed along the comfy cushions just talking. And Louis was actually telling him things. 

He was talking about High School, and his small stint at Uni, and his old job. He talked about his parents and how they died and how it changed everything; how he went from coping with his anxiety to barely functioning. 

He explained why he was so scared when Harry found out, but Harry stopped him because he didn’t need to explain anything. Louis had been blushing and his words came out stuttered and Harry could hear him struggling to breathe as he spoke, so he reminded Louis to calm down and held his hand out and the smaller boy took it. It still shocked Harry, that every time he offered physical contact to Louis he would take it. Harry was waiting for a switch to flip, for Louis to cry and beg Harry to leave again, to ask for Liam to come back. 

But Louis looked calm enough. He was still a little jumpy, eyes flitting from one place to the next, but he looked in control and Harry had learnt that that was what Louis needed most. To be in control of his surroundings and himself. 

So Louis had taken Harry’s hand and entwined their fingers and smiled one of his beautiful smiles. The kind that just seemed to fall across his face and change it all, pushing up cheeks and crinkling eyes and showing off little white teeth. It made him look cheeky and carefree, so Harry could believe momentarily that he was just another boy that he could take for picnics in Hyde Park, or to football games, or one day back home to meet his Mum. He looked like the boy who Harry could tell everything to and know exactly what to say back, and who would come to Harry with his problems so they could sort them out together. 

But Louis had so many problems of his own, and Harry had only been thinking of how much he deserved Louis more than Liam did to realise that maybe Louis would be too hard to fix; that he had too much of his own stuff to figure out before he could sort out Harry too; that maybe he’ll never meet his Mum or watch a football game or eat sandwiches in Hyde Park. 

But that was okay. Harry could cope with that, and maybe he was getting ahead of himself because that’s what he always did, but Louis wasn’t ever going to be _just another boy_. Harry felt half mad and probably was, but he just knew Louis and him were good for each other. That they were both fucked up and even though their combined baggage was well over the flight limit, they’d figure out how to fly off together anyway.

 

Harry woke with so many kinks and pains in his shoulders and back, groaning as he stretched his limbs out and tilted his neck back before letting everything go. He blinked his eyes open and sat up, looking around the room that looked a lot different bathed in sunlight. Or maybe Harry was just noticing a lot more; that there were no photographs on walls, or knick-knacky things lining surfaces. There was just basic furniture and a few throw pillows on the floor from when Harry had threw them off the couch the night before. Harry got up and walked past the front door, through the dining room and into the bathroom. 

When he came back out, Louis was sitting at the front window. 

Harry tried to make as much noise as possible as he approached because he wasn’t sure if Louis even knew that he was still here. But at the sound of stamping feet, Louis turned and frowned.

“What are you doing?” he’d asked, and Harry could only grin. 

“What are _you_ doing?” Harry bit back.

“Watching.” He said, pointing at something through the window. Harry followed his gaze to where Liam was stretching in the park, in his tiny loose shorts and tight shirt and bright runners that looked brand new. Louis’ voice broke through the momentary silence to ask “Did I scare him last night, when I ran away?” Harry’s chest felt heavy all of a sudden, and he made a little noise in his throat that Louis must have taken as uncertainty because he continued. “He was trying to calm me down and he touched my shoulder and I ran away. I just wasn’t expecting it, you know?” 

When Louis’ blue eyes met his, Harry nodded. “Maybe it means something.” 

Louis shook his head. “I think I just need to be able to make the first move. Like how I touched you, it was fine because I started it. But when Liam tried to touch me, it was a surprise so I didn’t like it.”

Harry bit his lip hard, because he wanted to say that maybe it had something more to do with the person that was doing the touching but he didn’t know if he was allowed.

So he shrugged and watched Louis watch Liam.


	13. Chapter 13

Louis was surprised that he really didn’t want Harry to go, but he had to be at the pancake place by 8 so he wasn’t there to watch Liam come back from his run. 

It was strange watching Liam now that he’d met him. It wasn’t as exciting anymore, now that he could put a name and voice and personality to the face. He thought it would be better since meeting him because Liam was beautiful and kind and thoughtful, but he preferred how it was before. 

Liam had just been another character that Louis could give a backstory to. He’d been as fictional to him as Sherlock Holmes and Harry Potter and Oliver Twist. But now he was real; with a real family and real friends and a real history. He wasn’t whatever Louis could make him, he wouldn’t feel how Louis wanted him to, he could make his own decisions and had his own needs and it frightened Louis, like everything else he couldn’t control did. 

Everything except Harry. 

Louis still couldn’t find a rational explanation for why he wasn’t afraid of Harry. He had as little control over Harry as he did Liam. Harry had his own thoughts that Louis couldn’t read and responses that Louis couldn’t predict and a history that Louis couldn’t write. But there was just something so safe about him, and it felt so easy to trust him that Louis probably should have been wary but he wasn’t because he hadn’t felt anything like that since his parents and he wanted to bask in that serenity for a little longer while he could. 

 

Louis should have known that Harry wouldn’t be able to visit often. He worked three jobs and studied during the week, so he only really had weekends available. Even on those, he wasn’t always free. He had friends to see, and assignments to complete, and it would have been so hard for Harry but Louis couldn’t help but feel a little selfish, because he had so much free time to think and notice Harry’s absence when he himself probably crossed Harry’s mind rarely. Loneliness felt that much harsher after he’d met Harry in person, making companionship feel that much more important. 

He started to invite Niall in for tea when he dropped off Louis’ groceries, and Niall always complied. Louis felt a little bad because Niall never told him if he had the time and Louis never asked. 

Niall told him stories about his friends. How Zayn flunked out of Uni because he smoked too much pot and now just paints pictures and sells them to rich old ladies and gay guys because he knows how to smile at them right and cant his hips. How Liam is the only one that can get away with giving him shit about it because Zayn’s always been a little in love with him. How Niall tried the phone sex thing once, like Zayn and Harry, but couldn’t do it ever again because he couldn’t stop laughing. And how Harry fell in love too quickly and once ran off to Paris with a busker for a month and wracked up thousands of pounds in debt.

“How?” Louis had asked, and Niall shrugged. 

“Harry can be stupid like that. He falls deep and fast and he’s always surprised when it doesn’t work out.” And there was a hard edge to Niall’s voice that meant something, but Louis didn’t want to ask because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

So instead he asked “Is that why Harry does the phone sex job?”

“To pay off his debt? Yeah, that’s the only reason. He’s not into it, and it upsets him, and some people can say some pretty disgusting and nasty things. But it’s a well-paying job with flexible hours, so he puts up with it.”

And Louis felt guilty because he had money he hadn’t earned and time he didn’t need yet was wasting so much of Harry’s. And he felt worried that Harry might run away with someone again and leave him, and sad because he could never be the one that Harry ran away with, and scared because he hadn’t realised he’d felt anything more than friendship for Harry until that moment. 

So he let Niall change the conversation back to Liam; how he used to be a really good footballer until he busted his knee, how he studied medicine because he was ridiculously smart but was much more interested in physical therapy, how he would excel at either because he was good at fixing things. Louis listened and nodded and tried to remind himself why he liked Liam so much but he couldn’t summon up the motivation. He felt nothing for Liam, and didn’t care about him, and couldn’t stop thinking about Harry long enough to let himself. 

 

The next time Niall came over, he brought a phone with him. 

“It’s just an old one of mine, and I only put about thirty pounds worth of credit on there. Just thought you might need a way to contact people.” Niall had explained, looking shy and bashful and a little proud of himself. 

Louis smiled and took it a little tearfully. “Thanks.” 

“I put our numbers in there too, so you can talk to us whenever you want. Harry told me to make sure you know that we won’t call you on it, we’ll just text. So you know, next time Liam thinks you’ve fallen on a knife he doesn’t have to knock your door down.” Niall added with a grin.

Louis flicked through the contact list that now had more than just the emergency numbers, laughing as he read _Curly_ and _Dog Boy_ and _Pot’o’Gold_. 

“Whose _Grumpy Pants_ and _Smiley_?” Louis asked with a slight frown. 

“Zayn and you. Zayn’s in their just in case, and I thought you might want to know your own number if you ever needed to give it to someone.” Niall said with a shrug, but Louis was too busy blushing red at his new nickname. And when Niall added “You got the whole gang in there” his smile widened painfully because he felt considered and cared about and like he was part of something now; like maybe he had real friends.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry didn’t even try to control his grin when he got his first text from Louis. It just said _Hi, what are you doing today?_ and then a follow up text saying _Its Louis, sorry._ but it was just nice that he could finally have some contact with him after the last few days of silence. 

He’d been flat out busy with work and trying to catch up with his new class. He was getting less sleep because he was taking more calls, and it was getting harder to switch his brain off because he couldn’t stop thinking about Louis since he’d seen him. 

Louis was really beautiful. He was so small, not just in size but in demeanour. He was quiet and just seemed to hold so much of himself in. He had a little nose and little mouth and little chin but when he truly smiled his eyes lit up and his mouth stretched wide across his face and made him look that much bigger. 

So now that Harry could put a face to the one he’d been crushing on for the last few months, it wouldn’t leave his mind. He wasn’t complaining, but it got to be so distracting. 

He messed up orders and under-charged customers and drifted off during the dirty phone calls, but this time it was because he was happy. He’d find himself smiling and wouldn’t know it until someone asked for the cause. Even at Uni, he could go for longer and longer amounts of time without thinking about anyone else in the room. It made concentrating harder, but it was easier to forget about what had been scaring him about attending classes. 

 

“It’s only been three days.” Zayn said slowly, when Harry had gushed to him over the phone. 

Zayn had called him during his break between jobs, just for a catch up and to invite him out to drinks the following night.

“I know, but you haven’t met him! If you had, you’d know.” 

He heard Zayn sigh. “I’ve heard enough about him, thanks. Between you and Liam, it feels like I don’t ever get to talk about anything else.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just, we’ll talk about it tomorrow yeah? In the meantime, could you maybe try to slow down a bit?”

Harry frowned. “Slow what down?”

“This whole _I love him, I love him and I don’t care who knows it_ shit.”

“It’s not shit.” 

“Fuck, I know, sorry. Just, try not to get ahead of yourself. You don’t know him very well and it just sounds like you’re getting too attached. You know how we worry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ve really got to stop that.”

Zayn laughed and Harry had to grin, because a Zayn laugh was pretty rare. “I’ll try not to worry if you stop falling in love with everyone you meet.”

“Fine. But just know I loved Louis before I met him, so, you lose.” And Harry hung up with a small smile on his face before Zayn could say anything back. Then his smile fell a little because he knew Zayn did worry, and he knew he had a reason to, but he just wished he would trust him. Louis wasn’t like the other ones, and Zayn needed to know that. 

 

Harry figured that he could go to Zayn’s if he brought his work phone with him and took a few calls between drinks. It was a Friday, and he always tried to go out on Fridays, but he had a pretty big payment to make on one of his credit cards coming up. 

Harry was surprised to find only Niall there when he arrived, because Liam never failed to come over before anyone else. 

Without Harry having to even ask, Zayn said “He’s got some assignment he wants to finish off, then he’ll be here.” And Harry nodded, hoping that none of the others could pick up on how happy he was with Liam’s absence. 

“So, Louis liked the phone.” Niall said from where he was sitting on the kitchen bench, beer resting between his knees. 

“Yeah, he’s been texting me.” Harry said, and felt his cheeks pull up as he smiled. “I’m going to try to visit him tomorrow.” 

Niall nodded and took a long sip from his beer. “Is that a good idea?”

Harry tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just saw him the other day. Don’t want to overwhelm him.” Niall explained slowly and carefully, and Harry felt like a child.

“He says he wants to see me though. He asked.” Harry replied, and he just knew that he sounded pathetic because Zayn’s eyes softened which was always a tell-tale sign. 

“Yeah, but maybe it’s not what’s best for him.” Niall said, and Harry felt himself redden. _You’re not what’s best for him_ is what was implied. 

“What is then? Liam? You?” Harry growled, and Niall flinched but Zayn’s facial expression didn’t change. He just came closer and wrapped his fingers lightly around a wrist. 

“No one is, Harry. We’re just worried.” Zayn near whispered, and Harry couldn’t stand it when Zayn was careful with him.

“About what?” he asked, even though he just knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. They always worried about him for silly things that they didn’t need to. But sometimes they had good reason, and they’d been right to, and Harry would realise it too late. 

Zayn didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked carefully at Niall, and Harry wanted to scream _Just fucking say it_ but he caught himself just before Zayn broke the silence. “We’re worried you’re going to try to fix him, and how hurt you’ll be because you can’t. People don’t fix other people. People fix themselves.”

Harry wanted to tell them that he could do it; that he could fix Louis if he tried hard enough but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. So he stiffened up and whispered “He doesn’t need fixing” before finally leaving the room to answer the call he’d been ignoring for the last few minutes. 

 

Liam had walked into Zayn’s bedroom when Harry was mid-fake-orgasm. He’d been chanting “Oh”s and moaning and he didn’t even feel embarrassed when Liam barged in and immediately turned pink. Harry just looked right back into his eyes and groaned, smirking because Liam was just blushing redder and redder. And he may have let his finger slide over the speaker button so the woman’s piercing cries filled the room that Liam was quickly exiting. 

When she finally hung up, Harry heard a knock on the door and he opened it with a wide grin on his face. “Yes Liam?”

Liam was still blushing red, just now he was playing with the hem of his shirt nervously and he couldn’t quite look Harry in the eyes. He cleared his throat and asked “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

Harry pushed the door open further silently and went back to sitting on Zayn’s bed. “You sure you just want to talk?” he joked coldly, looking down at Liam’s hands trying to cover his crotch. 

Liam did the impossible and turned redder before his lips quirked into a small smile and he breathed out a laugh. “You’re really good at that.”

“Thanks I guess. Zayn’s better. Maybe you should give him a call sometime.”

And Liam laughed again without much humour and sat on the edge of the bed, finally looking Harry in the eyes. “You were right.” Harry just raised an eyebrow so Liam continued. “About my hero complex. I don’t know Louis and I confused my need to make him better with actually, like, intimate kind of feelings for him.” Liam had stuttered through his explanation and Harry was beginning to feel a little guilty for creating such a cold atmosphere. He nodded and tried to smile, and Liam added “Zayn’s right, about Louis not needing others to fix him. Because I realised that the only person that can fix him is himself, you know?”

And Harry cracked. He knew exactly what this was; what they were all doing. They were trying to drill their point all the way home and Harry didn’t need it. _He got it_. They didn’t think Louis could be fixed, and they didn’t want Harry getting his hopes up for another relationship that would just get thrown back in his face. 

But they didn’t get it.

They didn’t get that Harry _could_ and _would_ fix Louis. He’d just have to make them see.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry said he was going to come over after a last minute shift at the pancake place. Meaning Louis had three hours to get the place looking nice before he got there. 

But when Louis looked around, he couldn’t see anything to do. He’d done the bathrooms the day before, the walls had enough of a scrub before Liam and Niall came over, it was probably just the kitchen that needed a wipe over because he’d got a bit carried away making breakfast.

And usually when everything looked fine, Louis would still go over it all with a scrubbing brush anyway. He didn’t even feel the need to sweep the floors, and that was saying something. 

So he had three hours to kill, and he spent it looking out the window. 

He watched a group of teens kick a ball around in the park; he watched an old couple that were sitting on a bench sharing a newspaper; there were two pretty girls lying out in the sun. And it looked beautiful out there, it really did. But none of them were doing anything that he particularly wanted to do. For once he didn’t feel guilty about where he was and why he was there. He didn’t hate himself for not being able to leave because he didn’t _want_ to leave. And it made him feel good, like a big sheet had been lifted off him and now all he was covered by was his own skin. And he felt comfortable in it. 

 

He only left the window to prepare something for lunch, and he was in the middle of cooking it when Harry knocked on the door. 

He looked perfect, even if he was still in his work uniform. 

Harry must have caught the little smile that was playing on Louis’ lips because he said “I have a little hat too. The same bright pink as my shirt.” And Louis let out a full blown laugh when Harry pulled it on. 

 

Harry stayed the night again. He used Louis’ laptop to work on an assignment, and he had to escape to take a few calls, but other than that they just spoke. And Louis asked about Uni and work, like always, but also about the busker. 

“He was just someone I met after he played a few songs at a bar, and I got to talking to him and we dated for a little while.” Harry explained, looking around at anything and everything but Louis.

“You must have really loved him to follow him to Paris.” 

Harry grimaced and chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t, not really. I thought so at the time I guess.” 

“Have you had many boyfriends?” Louis asked, because he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t ever had one, not even in High School. There was just a girl in College who called herself his girlfriend, and Louis never denied it because she was nice and just as lonely as him. 

Harry blushed and nodded. “I’ve spent more of my life in relationships then out of them. And the longest relationship I’ve had is four months.” And Louis nodded and Harry breathed in deep and asked “Have you been talking to anyone? Like Liam or Zayn?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

Harry looked down at his hands, then grabbed the cushion that was beside him on the couch and rested it on his lap, fiddling with the corners. “They’ve just been saying stuff lately, and its stuff I don’t really want you to hear.”

Louis audibly swallowed and his head pounded and he clenched his eyes shut to calm himself. Because if Harry didn’t want him to hear it, then it meant they were saying stuff that Louis wouldn’t like to hear. Stuff about him, or about Harry, or about Harry and Him and he didn’t like to think that he was being talked about. 

“Nothing bad, promise.” Louis heard Harry say as one of Harry’s large hands covered his shoulder. “They’re worried about me, its got nothing to do with you.”

And when Louis’ breath evened out he asked “Worried about what?”

“That I’m too attached. But I’m not, am I? We like each other the same, don’t we?” 

“How do you like me?” 

“More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” Harry replied, and Louis had to look over him to see if he was joking, because that couldn’t be right. They hadn’t been talking for long, they’d only met not even a week ago, and they knew very little about each other’s lives except the basics. As much as Harry talked, he had a way of not saying much. And Louis may have told Harry about his school and his anxiety and his parents, but there was so much more that had been left unsaid.

“You don’t have to say that.” Louis muttered, because maybe Harry was just trying to make him feel good. 

But Harry shook his head quick and looked back at him with wide eyes. “I’m not, it’s true. It feels right between us, don’t you think?” 

And Louis just blinked and started to feel a little sick. So after a long pause he said “I don’t know what I think.”

And Harry shuffled forward on the couch so his feet were flat on the ground, and he carefully took Louis’ hand but Louis still had to pull it away because right now he wanted it for himself. And Harry’s face fell a little and his eyes dropped to the frayed knees of his jeans. “I do really like you Louis. Do you need me to tell you why?”

Louis didn’t know. He was still a little shocked, and he didn’t know why Harry liked him but he wasn’t sure that he wanted the reasons why. Because maybe they’d be soppy and make him blush, or maybe it was just because Harry was afraid of being abandoned and it was physically impossible for Louis to leave him. Maybe it really was because he liked Louis’ smile as much as he said, and he thought Louis was beautiful and kind and funny. Or maybe it was because Harry couldn’t be alone for very long and it was just Louis’ turn to be the boy that Harry would think he loved. So Louis shook his head no. 

“I don’t want to know why you like me. It’s enough to know you do.” Louis lied, looking down at his feet.

“Do you like me too then?” Harry asked.

And Louis had to be honest, because he could only fake so much. “I do, but I don't know how much. And I’m scared.”

“Of how you feel?” Harry asked gently.

Louis shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip and muttered “Of how you feel.”


	16. Chapter 16

When Louis suggested he leave, Harry was a little surprised. It didn’t sound like Louis _wanted_ him to go, and he didn’t exactly ask him to leave as such. He just said he was tired and wanted to have a rest, and when Harry asked if he should go, Louis said yes a little too quickly. 

It felt off, but Harry didn’t push it or ask what was the matter because maybe Louis was just overwhelmed, and he didn’t want to make it any worse. So he held his tongue and went in for a hug but Louis backed away a little with a small smile, wrapping his own arms around himself like he was trying to be subtle but failing terribly. 

And Harry got a little scared. That he’d pushed away another one by saying something wrong; but mainly that he’d frightened Louis because he didn’t want to be added to Louis’ list of fears. 

So Harry tried to remember every little thing he’d said to Louis, looking for the moment things changed, and the only thing he could come up with was when he was talking about his ex-boyfriends. Maybe Louis hadn’t liked hearing about that; maybe he got jealous or embarrassed about his inexperience. Because after that, Louis had admitted to being afraid of Harry’s feelings. Like maybe he didn’t believe them. He said he didn’t want to hear what they were, but maybe he needed to know for reassurance. So Harry texted Louis to call him when he was available, and he didn’t hear anything back until late that night. 

 

Harry had managed to write up the last of his assignment that afternoon, and Niall was over to edit it over a few beers. 

He was cradling the laptop over his lap, and Harry was hovering over his shoulder to see what Niall was doing. He wasn’t exactly making any changes, and when Harry pointed that out Niall groaned.

“Well I’m no better at grammar and shit then you! You really need Liam or Zayn.” And Harry humphed and Niall rolled his eyes before adding “They’re only looking out for you, you idiot.”

“I don’t want them to.”

“Well you’re always pretty grateful for their help when things don’t work out.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need their help this time. Louis’ the one, I just know it.”

“Just like how you knew Travis and Aiden and Graham were?” 

And Harry growled out a _Fuck off_ before storming off to his room. But Niall just had to follow him. 

“Harry, I know that Louis’ different to them. He’s not asking anything of you, and that’s all the others did because they knew you’d do it. I just think that you’re trying to give Louis everything anyway, and that’s not what he needs. He’s caring, just like you. So if you start doing everything for him, he’s going to want to return it and that’s just going to put pressure on him.”

Harry rolled over on his bed to look at Niall, because maybe he’d been having a little sulk into his pillow during Niall’s little speech. “Did you rehearse that Niall?” he grumbled, because he didn’t quite know what else to say. He’d run off to his room like a child, sticking his fingers in his ears and everything, so he was a little embarrassed to say the least.

But Niall got him, and he just had to smile and thump Harry on the back a little too hard and they were alright. “Just think about it yeah? I’m gonna go try to make some kind of sense of that shit on your laptop.”

Harry sighed and sat up and said “I’ll email it to Zayn, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to him first though if you want him to do it.” Niall said with a raised eyebrow, and Harry nodded because _obviously_. 

And Harry had his phone in his hand, finger hovering over Zayn’s number, when Louis’ name flashed up on the screen. 

“Hello?” Harry answered it on the first ring.

“Oh. Hi. That was quick.” Louis stuttered and Harry grinned.

“Yeah, sorry. Everything alright?” and he sat back on his bed and waved his hand at Niall to go. Niall grinned and gave him the finger before walking out of the room, closing the door after him. 

“Yeah, you said you wanted me to call though.”

“Right. I was just wondering if you were okay? You seemed a bit off when I left this morning.”

There was a silence and Harry was just about to repeat himself but Louis beat him to it. “It just got to be too much. I needed some space to clear out my head again.” 

Needing some space. Harry had heard that before, too many times. But Louis didn’t mean space from _him_ , he meant just space in general. “It must be hard to get space in your own house. I always need to go for a walk to clear my head out.”

“Uh, no. I just need to be alone, that’s enough.”

“But, don’t you think a walk would be even better?”

“I don’t know. It’s not really an option is it?”

“Yeah, it is. Now you’ve got me with you it is.” And there was another silence so Harry asked “Louis?”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” He breathed out, and it sounded strained. 

“I just think that maybe I can help you to get better. Like maybe now you’ve got me, we can fix you.”

“You think I need to be fixed? Do you think I’m broken?”

Fuck, but Harry always knew just the wrong thing to say. “No, I don’t think that. Do you think that?”

“No. And I don’t think you can help me either.” And Louis breathing was growing louder and ragged and Harry stayed silent until it slowed down a bit because right now, he was only making everything worse. “I’m getting myself better. You can’t do anything for me.” 

Then the line went dead and Harry could only stare at the little screen that said _Louis disconnected_. 


	17. Chapter 17

Louis never wanted this from Harry. He didn’t need someone to fix him because that’s not the way these things worked. 

He’d thought that way as a teenager. That there was some miracle cure for the way his heart raced and his stomach clenched up when he felt even the smallest bit of fear. He’d asked his psychologist why he hadn’t fixed him yet, and he’d always get the same response. That he was there as a guide, to teach Louis how to cope with his fear and strategies for overcoming it. He’d learnt how to breathe and thoughts to play over in his mind to have him thinking rationally. Because his fears were irrational, and the sooner he could remember that the sooner he could get better. 

So Louis knew that he was the only one that could fix himself. That people could help if he let them, and if they knew how. But Harry didn’t know how, that was obvious. He’d talked about fixing him _together_ , like all Louis ever needed was him and now that they had each other, all his problems would disappear.

And Louis knew that Harry was just young and ignorant. That he didn’t understand what Louis went through but thought he did. He just wanted to help put Louis back together, but Louis didn’t want that. Because Louis was the only one with all the instructions, and he was the only one who should get a say on what the finished product would be, and Harry needed to understand that if they were to ever be anything. 

It was obvious that that’s what Harry wanted, for them to be _together_. And Louis liked Harry; he was funny and compassionate and Louis _thought_ he had all the right intentions, but now he wasn’t so sure. If Harry’s first thought was to fix him, then Louis didn’t want any of it.

Because he really was getting better, since the moment he’d realised that he wasn’t completely safe from harm in his own home. It had been a scary thought to come to terms with at first but it had Louis thinking; that if he could handle things in his own home then he could surely handle things out in the real world. He might not be able to right away, but the realisation that he could one day was enough to have him taking little steps towards that front door. 

 

Louis was confused when he got a text from ‘Grumpy Pants.’ It had said _its Zayn, can I call you?_ and at first Louis thought he had contacted the wrong number. But Louis was curious, and he texted back _Yes_ , and not five seconds later his phone was ringing. 

The little jolt of fear he felt reminded him of when Harry called him for the first time, when he made that first step towards a friendship. Louis wondered what he would be like if he’d never given Harry his number. If they hadn’t met and Harry never found out about him, what would he be like? It was a scary thought, really, because Louis felt so much stronger now compared to how he was then. A few months ago he would be in a full blown panic right now, as an unfamiliar person called him for a reason he didn’t know. But he could breathe through it and remind himself that it was just a phone call.

“Hello?” Louis answered quietly.

“Hey, Louis? Uh, it’s Zayn. Are you sure this is okay? I didn’t really expect you to reply to be honest.” Zayn stumbled over his words, and it helped Louis relax. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

“Uh, right. Okay. Umm… shit. I don’t actually know what to say now.” Zayn laughed, and Louis felt his lips quirk up into a smile. 

“How come you called?” He asked, kindly but straight to the point. 

“I just feel like I need to explain things to you, because Harry’s terrible at explanations.” And Louis’ breath only had to hitch once before Zayn was spilling out assurances. “Sorry, I don’t have to. You can hang up anytime you like.” 

And Louis smiled slightly. “It’s alright. Just say what you have to say.”

Zayn breathed in deep and was silent for a moment, perhaps piecing together his words, before he cleared his throat. “Harry has a lot of trouble being alone. Like, without a partner.”

“Yes.” Louis prompted, because that hadn't been hard to figure out.

“He falls in love all the time. Or what he thinks is love. But it’s always been with people that use him and his neediness to get what they want. Because he has to give people everything, and it hurts him most when it’s not enough. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“So when you said he can’t do anything for you, he took it to mean him personally. Even though I’ve told him so many times now that it doesn’t take having someone to make you happy. So he doesn’t get it, how you are. But he really does care in the only way he knows how. He wants to make you happy and he assumed that to do that he has to make you better.”

“But does he want to make me better for me or for him? Does he not like how I am now? Do I have to change for him to ever love me properly?” Louis asked, but his voice was shaking so much it sounded as if he was begging. And maybe he was, because he wanted to know these things. He needed to know if he and Harry would ever make sense. Because he was alone and wanted someone to care, and all Harry did was care, so they should match up perfectly. But it would be too dangerous, with them as they were, because people had to find happiness within themselves to be able to find happiness with others. Louis knew who he was, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to accept it, and Harry was always searching for someone else to complete him because he didn’t know who he was when he was alone. 

“All he wants is whatever you want. He’s afraid to say he likes how you are now, because he doesn’t know if you like who you are. He wanted to help you get better because he thought that’s what you wanted. And he’ll kill me for saying this, but he liked you when all you did was talk on the phone. Before he knew anything about you, really, because all you did was listen, and he’d never had that. You made him so happy, in just those short weeks, and all he’s wanted to do since is return the favour.”

Louis wished he'd handled things better, when Harry said what he did on the phone. But wishing for normal reactions was all he'd ever done, so he couldn't expect himself to suddenly know how to respond properly now. He just knew he needed to make sense of everything; of how he felt about Harry, of how Harry felt about him; what they both wanted and needed and whether any of it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm so this is actually going to finish soon, like in 2 or 3 chapters. 
> 
> And I reeeeeeallly hope you all kind of get where I'm going with this by now, otherwise the ending will be very disappointing for you :/
> 
> Sooooooo just saying, don't expect everything to turn out miraculously perfect!!! And I'm sorry if I've led anyone to believe that it will!! Like I really tried not to make things all magic and rainbows but those few chapters of fluff might have done the opposite of what was intended. 
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo


	18. Chapter 18

Harry hadn’t left his place for a couple of days, and his mates hadn’t stopped pestering him about it. 

They each called him every half hour on rotation, and Harry would have turned his phone off but he was still hoping to hear something from Louis; a call or even a reply to a text, but nothing. Nothing since he’d told Harry how useless he was. How he didn’t need him and Harry was used to that; needing someone who didn’t feel the same way. But at least the others wanted him, and Harry didn’t know if Louis even felt that. 

So when Louis had hung up the phone he’d collapsed onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his hair and screamed through his teeth because he always fucked everything up. He always got things wrong and jumped to conclusions and thought they felt the same way when they never did. Because Harry was never good enough, and he always had that in his mind with the others. That they were too good looking or charming or talented or _anything_ for him. 

It’d never been that way with Louis though. He’d never had to doubt himself because Louis never made him feel like shit. He never put Harry down or manipulate him into doing things, so Harry thought that he’d finally found someone who needed him right back. But, like always, he’d fucked it all up. 

 

Harry was woken by the banging at his front door on his third day shut in. He ignored it for about ten minutes, but it was growing louder and his neighbours already hated him because his calls were a little too loud sometimes. So he climbed out of bed and opened the door and all three of his friends came barging through.

“Have you read any of our texts?” Liam asked, eyes as wide and brown as ever. Maybe that’s what Louis really needed. Brown eyes.

Harry flopped down onto his couch and crossed his arms. “No.”

“When was the last time you worked Harry? How are you going to pay your rent this week?” Liam pestered.

“I’ve been taking more calls.” He answered with a shrug, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Because he’d taken a lot more calls, more than enough to pay for rent. It felt like he needed them, the men telling him how bad he was and what he was good for and how they liked to hear him cry. That was the only time he really let himself, when he had an excuse that wasn’t Louis. He didn’t think it would be right to cry over him. 

“You look like shit, Harry.” Niall said as he sat down on the coffee table, putting his elbows on his knees to lean into his space. “Have you been eating at least?” 

Harry nodded. “Sleeping too.” He reassured them with a whisper, because he knew what they’d been thinking. They’d had to help him through the other times. He just didn’t say that it was for no more than a few hours a night. 

“How about Uni? You’ve got exams coming up, don’t you need to go to your classes?” Liam asked, and Harry had to drop his head between his knees to stop himself from lashing out. 

“Harry?” he heard someone ask, and all he could tell about the voice was that it was worried. He couldn’t pick out who it was because his ears were ringing too loudly and his head was pounding and his face felt hot.

He felt a hand on his back and let the tears fall. “I can’t go back.” he sobbed. 

And the hand on his back moved back and forth and he tried to focus on that instead of the noise in his head. He tried to concentrate on the way the couch dipped on either side of him and thighs pressed against his and a hand gripped his knee. He let himself listen to Zayn’s reassurances and Liam’s worry and Niall’s attempts at cheering him up with terrible jokes because he was that kind of guy. It made his breath hitch, all this love that was surrounding him, and he wished it could be enough for him. That he’d been able to fall in love with any of them so at least he could have it somewhat requited. 

“Is it him?” Liam asked, and the question rang loudly in his ears because there were so many _hims_ that it could be. 

“Because he got fired, just yesterday.” Niall added, and Harry sat up and ignored the way they flinched at his red eyes and his wet cheeks. “A lot of other students have come forward with complaints since you said something.”

“It’s been too many to ignore, and they’re building a case against him and everything.” Liam nodded, and Harry just blinked. He didn’t know what to say, and he couldn’t describe what he was feeling but it was so much more than just relief. He could feel himself smile, and heard a laugh burst out from way down in his lungs. He shook his head and sat back on the couch, squishing Liam and Zayn’s hands between his skin and the cushion but they didn’t mind. They were just watching him, seemingly trying to hide their shock but doing a pretty terrible job because their eyes were darting from him to each other. Like they were looking for an explanation, just as Harry himself was. 

“He’s gone.” Harry wiped at his eyes with a hand and brushed the tears off his cheeks with the back of his palm. “I don’t – sorry, I don’t know why I’m like this right now.” He stuttered out with a laugh, one that was short and confused and embarrassed. 

“You’re relieved.” Liam said, looking to Zayn who was still just staring at Harry. 

“Yeah, no shit.” Harry laughed again. And he couldn’t even explain that, why he was laughing when ten seconds ago he’d been spluttering all over his knees. It just felt like it needed to get out; these bubbles of happiness that forced themselves out in desperation to pop. 

“It must have been really eating up at you, huh?” Zayn asked carefully, and Harry couldn’t blame him. He was a bit afraid of himself at the moment, of his hysteria. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, and tried to think back to a time when it hadn’t been bothering him. It had only really been the times with Louis, when he wasn’t at work or taking calls or at the very place that made him feel so anxious. Unless he was thinking about Louis, or talking to Louis, or by Louis’ side. 

“So you only felt happy with Louis?” Niall asked, and Harry’s eyes shot up to meet his because either he’d said his thoughts out loud or Niall could read his mind. 

“Yeah. Since the – the professor.” He uttered through a sharp exhale. 

“So you _only_ felt happy with Louis?” Zayn repeated and Harry nodded and creased his brows and pursed his lips because he couldn’t quite figure out what Zayn was getting at. “So every bit of happiness you’ve felt in the last couple of weeks was when you were distracted enough from the – incident – to not think about it and just… be happy?” 

“Yeah.”

Liam looked from Zayn and nodded and said “So maybe you associated being distracted from the professor when you were with Louis to happiness and love and good things _for_ Louis.”

Harry shook his head because no, he still felt like he loved Louis. Just, maybe now he was feeling happiness without him for the first time in the last few weeks. Because the professor was gone and Uni didn’t feel so daunting anymore and his life didn’t sound so hard. 

“We’re not saying you don’t… feel things for Louis. Just, maybe you got your feelings a little confused.” Zayn assured him with quick words and a slight nod and a hand that rested on his knee. “Maybe you just needed your problems to be fixed, so you tried to fix Louis’ instead.” 

Harry looked down at his fingers, entwined together so tight his knuckles were white, and he shrugged. “It doesn’t explain the way I am. I didn’t always have the professor to blame, for the other times.” When he’d run off with guys that treated him like dirt, and put up with their harsh words and selfishness and blame himself for it all. 

“But Louis’ not like them. You haven’t had to be anyone but yourself with Louis.” 

“But myself isn’t enough _for_ Louis.”

“It is Harry. He liked you when you just wanted to talk and be his friend. You just scared him with all your talk of change. You made him feel like you didn’t like who he was, but an image you had of what he could be one day. I talked to him just this morning.” And Harry looked up from his hands to look at Zayn, to watch as his lips moved. “You reminded him what it was like not to be scared all the time. You just have to be that for him again.” 

And Harry could do that. He wanted to do that. And for once someone else wanted him to be something that he wanted for himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Louis spent the day after the talk with Zayn trying to sort out his thoughts; but he couldn’t and it was because he just had too many unanswered questions. There was too much he needed to hear from Harry’s own mouth, so he texted Harry asking him to come over and Harry had replied _Leaving now_.

He’d answered the door to a dripping wet and shivering Harry, standing aside to let him in and leading him to the bathroom to get dry. He watched in silence as Harry dried himself, muttering about how he should really buy an umbrella and how cold it was outside, how the rain felt like snow.

“How come you like me?” Louis interrupted, and Harry looked up, towel laying across his shoulders. 

“It’s hard to describe.”

“Do you think maybe you just decided to like me one day, and have been making yourself ever since?” 

Harry blinked and frowned and took a step towards Louis. “Have I made you feel like that’s what I think?”

Louis shook his head and dropped his gaze to their shoes, noticing how close they were to touching. How it looked like they were a lot closer then it felt. “I just don’t understand. I can’t help but think you only like me because you think you can change me, and I don’t want to be changed by someone else.”

“But I’ve never wanted to change you. I’ve only ever wanted what you want.”

“Then how come you wanted to fix me?” And Louis watched Harry move forward so their toes were touching but nothing more. And it was good, he needed the space to breathe.

“I just thought that’s what you’d want. I thought that’s what you needed from me.”

“I don’t need anything from you. I don’t _want_ to need anything from anyone. It’s dangerous for me, to think like that.” Louis whispered, and he felt Harry edge a little closer. And it was better, because he wanted him close. 

“I’m really sorry Louis. Really, really sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. No one should ever make you feel like how I made you feel, and I understand if you don’t want to see me again. I just can’t quite get it out of my head that you don’t want anything from me, and I keep waiting for you to ask for something. But you never do and so I keep trying to force things on you that you don’t even want, because I think you want them.” Harry rushed out, and Louis watched as his cheeks turned pinker and his eyes became glassy. “I just really, really need you and want you and I know you don’t need or want me back.” 

Harry’s breath hitched so Louis reached out his hand to take Harry’s in his. “I do want you. I just don’t want anything _from_ you. And I like that you’re so giving but you need to understand that I don’t want to take; I don’t want to owe you. And if I need anything from you, it would be for you to tell me what you’re thinking so I can make sense of it. Because you still don’t make sense to me, Harry, and I don’t make sense to you.”

“But you do –“ Harry begun, and Louis cut him off with a shake of his head.

“We are comfortable around each other and we like each other and we make each other happy. But we make each other sad too and it’s because we are trying to put a name to this when we should just let things be. You don’t love me Harry. You don’t know me well enough to love me. But maybe you could one day, and maybe I might love you one day. And one day I’ll be able to leave the house without fear, and you’ll be able to love yourself without the help of others. But that day won’t ever happen if we keep trying to force it. These things will take time, and I’ve got so much of it that I can wait. Because I’m worth the wait, and so are you.”

Tears were falling from Harry’s eyes now, and Louis leaned up to wrap his arms around Harry and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Harry’s forehead like his Mum used to do. And Harry’s arms squeezed Louis tightly to his chest and Louis let Harry’s tears fall onto his shoulder and his wet eyelashes flutter against his temple. He heard Harry whisper “Can you really wait?” into his ear and he nodded until Harry’s breath hitched again. 

 

Louis looked out of the window and watched rain pour, and thought back to not very long ago when he’d hated himself for what he couldn’t do, for how scared he was of everyone and everything. When he only had the window to look out of and his books and his cleaning and cooking. Until he had his phone conversations with Harry and they became something to look forward to, rather than just another thing to distract him from his own thoughts. 

He watched the men in their suits rushing to Paddington Station and grinned, because there were some people who would kill to be where he was right now; shoulders draped with a blanket and mug of tea clenched between his palms with a person who cared about him sitting at his side. 

And he could imagine the day when he would go outside. It would be sunny and everything would look so green. The sky would be clear and the air would be crisp and his skin would tingle because he’d be anticipating feeling the earth under his bare feet, not dreading it. Maybe he’d have Harry with him, but he wouldn’t need him there. Maybe Harry would be there just to share the moment, or so Louis could look at his proud smile. Or maybe Harry wouldn’t be there, because it would be a rash decision, a sudden urge to feel the grass under his toes or to pat a stranger’s dog or to remind himself what the sun felt like. 

And he was thankful to Harry, for reminding him what it felt like to be happy and cared for; and what it felt like to care for someone else, too. How beautiful and painful and surprising and scary it could be. How it felt to think about someone else instead of his own mistakes and weaknesses. 

He was grateful because Harry had reminded him why he wanted to get better in the first place, and helped him see a solution that didn’t feel so out of reach. And maybe Harry would help him further along on that path, or maybe he wouldn’t, but it was enough to have his feet planted firmly on the starting line with a finish in sight and someone cheering him on from the sidelines. 

But what he was grateful for most, he thought as he looked at the boy beside him, mouth pursed as he blew on his tea, drops of water beading on the ends of his hair, skin shiny and pale and wet and smooth, was the realisation that everyone had their own complications. Everyone felt like they needed fixing, and some thought they needed other people to do it. And it was nice, to have someone to care about and want to help; to remind about the good things in life so he could enjoy them too. To have someone like Harry, who could get caught in other realities with irrationalities. Who could be fooled by illusions and controlled by delusions. And it made him feel normal, like he had a place out there beyond the front door, waiting for him to fill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! 
> 
> I feel like I need to explain some things. 
> 
> The fact that the title was "You'll be My Resolution" probably led people to think that this would end with Louis and Harry fixing each other and I'm reeeeally sorry if you expected that ending despite the warnings and the last few chapters. Just, in the song the lyrics to the chorus were "Don't you worry, you'll be my resolution characters of no illusion." So that is what I wanted to capture; having Harry with all these illusions about what love was and needing to realise that Louis didn't need to be fixed but needed Harry to be realistic. 
> 
> Also, the last lines of the song are "I'm not you and all you need but we're both moving steady." And that's how I wanted to finish this. With them moving towards getting better without just everything getting solved for them. 
> 
> This was obviously a fic about mental illness and insecurities and unhealthy dependencies and this was never going to be a "love solves everything" fic because I don't think that's the right message to put across. Really sorry if you read this whole thing expecting a different ending. 
> 
> I'm happy to do a epilogue set a year later or so if enough people ask for one. I just can't write this whole story with them both getting their issues sorted because even just writing Harry's realisation that he had a problem was messing a bit with my head. 
> 
> Ummmmm so yeah, I don't think I have anything else to say :/. I could probably go on and on about bits from the song I tried to use in the fic but I won't bore you haha. I've probably done enough of that already. 
> 
>  
> 
> Soooooo yes thanks for everyone who has commented, especially onedirectionrody and ziggystars and flowerchild. Y'all are gems. 
> 
> And I beg you all to tell me what you think because a lot of you said you liked it at the start but that was before shit started getting real so yeah, update me with your opinions. 
> 
> Thankyou all for reading!!!! (Especially to those who read this whole giant note I just left haha)
> 
> xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
> 
> Ps: tumblr is embrofic if you have questions/ want to say hi/ want to be besties :)


	20. Epilogue

They were on one of their morning walks when Harry told him. 

Harry took Louis’ hand in his and sighed loudly and said “I got the job.” 

And Louis grinned at their hands first, then up at Harry and let out a laugh. “You applied for about a million jobs Harry.”

“The one at the hospital.”

“The Royal London?” Louis squeaked. And when Harry nodded he jumped up and down on the spot until Harry swung him around so they were facing. He wiggled his whole body, from his toes to the tips of his hair, and Harry laughed. 

“You’re acting more excited then me.” 

And Louis punched him in the arm. “This is incredible. Harry, you have a nursing job! And you’ve been out of Uni for what, three weeks?”

“Yeah, its good isn’t it.” Harry was grinning wide now, eyes watching every little movement Louis made. And there were a lot of them; Louis was still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Louis punched him again, and Harry mocked hurt. “It’s not just good, it’s _incredible_ , like I said.” 

“I’ve still got nothing on you. Look at where we are.”

And Louis did. He tore his eyes away from Harry’s to take in the people around them, all rushing to make their train. He watched the people lining up to buy tickets, and the ticket collectors, and the people beeping their cards. They always ended up here, at Paddington Station, and Louis hadn’t quite figured out why. 

Louis shrugged. “It’s been a few months now, you’ve got to get over it some time.”

Harry rolled his eyes and started walking again, tugging the other boy along. “I’ll never get over it Lou. Every time we’re outside, it’s… _incredible_.” And it was Louis’ turn to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t help but grin because yeah, it really was.

“I still haven’t been able to get on a train.” Louis muttered, blushing a little because he already knew what Harry was going to say.

“Not yet, but we’ve got time, remember? All the time in the world.”

 

It didn’t take much longer after meeting Harry for Louis to take his first step outside. 

It had been when all the boys were over for dinner, and Niall was in the middle of telling them all about his new boss. The urge to go outside hit him suddenly; he wanted to know where the moon was in the sky at that particular point in time, and figured that the easiest way to find out would be to go and look himself.

So he pushed back his chair, noticing how Niall and Liam cringed at the sound. He left the table, grinning because the boys were still talking with mouths full of pasta, completely oblivious to what was about to happen. He’d opened the door quietly, breathed in even quieter, and took his first step out of the house in two years, four months and 13 days. 

He felt the cool of the pavement through his socks. He shivered from the chill in the air, a light breeze running through him and rustling the small trees in his front garden. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands just above his ribs, and started to walk. 

Louis strode through the park, looking up as the trees above him rustled. He padded through the grass and leant against a tree trunk, tracing the rough rivulets with his fingers. He sat down on a root that was poking up from the ground and looked around him. At all the tiny houses with gardens that looked just as overgrown as his; at the streetlight blinking as if struggling to produce light; at the birds that were searching for scraps underneath the picnic tables. And until a car drove past, breaking the silence and stillness of the street, it felt like Louis had the whole world to himself. 

 

When he finally went back inside, the boys were all still at the dinner table. They’d finished their meals and were in the middle of a conversation, so Louis just stood back and watched with a wide grin on his face that for the life of him he couldn’t get off. It was pulling at his cheeks painfully, and his eyes were almost crinkled all the way shut, but his stomach was swirling pleasantly and his head felt full of bubbles. He felt like a fizzy drink that had been shaken and was waiting idly for the lid to be popped off so it could finally burst free. 

“You right there?” Harry had asked with his own kind of wide grin. And Louis could only laugh. 

Everyone’s heads turned at the sound to look at him, and confusion was written all over their faces. Until Harry jumped up from his chair and pointed down at Louis’ feet. 

“Your socks!” He screeched, and Louis didn’t need to look down to know they were soaking wet and covered in grass. Louis just laughed again, and Harry was rushing around the table to gather Louis up in his arms. 

“I wanted to see the moon.” Louis giggled into Harry’s chest, and Louis felt his hair blow back a little when Harry snorted a laugh above him. 

“And what did you think?” Harry asked, and pulled back, resting his hands on Louis’ shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.

And Louis grinned another painful grin. “I didn’t get to see it. It was hiding behind the house.” He saw the way Harry’s eyes traced his lips, and a blush spread over his cheeks, before he tucked his chin back down into Louis’ neck. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He muttered. 

Louis gripped the fabric of Harry’s shirt tighter in his hands and tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. “Me too.” 

 

It had only really taken that first clear thought that Louis _could_ do it, and him actually deep down believing it, before things got easier. 

Louis relaxed with the cleaning, he wasn’t finding it so hard to sleep, and he was back to reading books just for the fun of it instead of using them as distractions. Niall was over almost every day, and Liam would come over for visits after his run sometimes. Louis wouldn’t even need the warning; he could handle Liam just turning up for a cup of tea and a chat. Conversation was always about Zayn, how Liam worried about him and his job and his health. And Louis just had to make a few little comments before Liam was spilling out the feelings he was beginning to think he had for him. 

“But we’ve always been mates. How will I know if he wants more?” Liam had asked, and Louis just shrugged because really, he didn’t know anything about relationships. He was still having his own internal battles over Harry.

\--

Since the lecturer was charged, Harry was doing great. He went to every one of his lectures, completed every assignment on time and studied for his exams. He passed every class, meaning he could at least graduate, even if it was with a low mark. 

He was happier at work too, and found it easier to do his job without stuffing everything up. It meant more tips so he didn’t have to take so many calls. He still had to take some, but he could now afford to give the agency the details of the ones he didn’t want to take. So the nasty calls stopped, and he didn’t have anyone telling him he was worthless and only good for sex. It became easier to find himself without someone telling him who or what he was. 

He tried to visit Louis every evening on the way home from work once Uni finished. He helped him look up online University courses, and he felt himself swell up with pride when Louis enrolled in one. 

Harry was still trying to figure out how much he was allowed to feel for Louis; it felt like there was a fine line between what was normal and what was too much. 

He knew now what he’d done wrong before. A part of him liked Louis because of how needy he assumed he would be. He was ashamed to admit it, but he’d thought that if Louis couldn’t leave the house, he’d need Harry to do things for him; to look after him and comfort him and love him. But that was wrong of him, and a part of the reason he liked Louis now was how much strength the boy didn’t even know he possessed. 

Harry stopped wanting Louis to need him when he stopped needing Louis. When things in his own life started working out for him, like the professor getting convicted and graduating Uni. 

So when Louis took his first big step out of the house, he only felt pride and excitement and love _for_ Louis. He didn’t claim the achievement as his like he would have done in the past, when he thought _what’s mine is yours_ counted for everything the person you loved had, even feelings. When he didn’t even know what love was, really. 

They started taking walks together in the evenings, then in the mornings. Louis started going for jogs with Liam, but Liam was a lot fitter and Louis said he felt like he was holding him back. Plus, Zayn started joining them on the runs and Louis wanted to give them some time to be together. 

So when Louis asked Harry to walk with him again, Harry was more than happy to do it. He was a little too happy, really, but he was still working on that. 

They’d walk a little further each time, and they always ended up just outside the station. 

“There’s just too many people.” Louis used to mutter almost every time before turning back to go home. Except the day after Harry’s graduation, Louis had grinned and gripped Harry’s hand and joined the bustling crowd. 

His grip on Harry’s hand was painful, but Harry was too elated to care. When Louis let go, Harry ignored the initial feeling of loss because Louis was standing in the middle of a crowd, alone and just watching the people that passed. And when their eyes connected across the station, Louis grinned back and waved and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt so happy for someone. 

\--

Louis tried to summon up that courage again, standing in line to buy their Tube tickets. He wanted to do it for Harry too, like he did that first time he stepped inside the station. 

Harry hadn’t mentioned wanting to fix Louis for a long time, not since that day when Harry came to his home, eyes as wet as the rain dripping down his neck. And it helped Louis; took the pressure off his back so he could focus on doing things for himself. But sometimes he wanted Harry’s help. Sometimes he wanted the two of them to do things together, to share those big moments. Like when Harry had graduated and Louis wasn’t there to see him, he wished so hard that he could. He wanted to see Harry in his gown, holding his certificate after all the shit he had to deal with to get it. 

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. So when he and Harry had their walk the following day, he wanted some moment for them to share. And it was easy, standing in the middle of the crowded station, so much easier then what he’d thought. The only person watching him was Harry, and Louis began to think that everything really was going to be alright. 

He focused on that as he handed their tickets to the officer, who stamped them and passed them back and nodded for them to pass. Louis took Harry’s hand as they walked through the tunnel, down an escalator and up a few stairs until they joined the throng of people waiting for the 8:15 Tube. 

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, chewing at his bottom lip like he was the one whose head was pounding like every drop of blood in his body was determined to escape through his ears. 

And that made Louis smile. “Good, I’m going to be fine.”

“You are.” Harry said with a nod, squeezing Louis’ hand. 

“This is for you getting that job.” Louis muttered when he spotted the Tube breaking through the dark of the tunnel.

“No, it’s for you.” Harry said back with a little smile. And Louis didn’t really know what he was doing; he wasn’t thinking about it and he hadn’t planned it but he pushed himself up on his toes to press their lips together. And when he pulled back the train was stopping and he tugged them both onto it and just stood, squashed in the middle of a group of school children. He breathed out and laughed because he didn’t feel anything; no pounding head or aching heart.

And he looked up to Harry and grinned because Harry looked like he was in shock, just blinking with a furrowed brow and bitten-red bottom lip. So he leaned up again to kiss Harry’s fear and doubt and confusion all away. 

When he pulled back Harry was smiling just as wide as him. And the kids around them were giggling and a man sitting down humphed and a young couple cooed, but Louis didn’t care about them. 

“I did it.” He said. 

And Harry nodded and laughed and said “You did.” 

And Louis looked out the little window at the lights flashing by them, and when they pulled up at the next stop Louis wasn’t quite ready to get off. He wanted to see more of the world that he’d been hiding from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it and it was just the right amount of soppy!! Remember to tumblr meeeeeee its embrofic xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note:**

> I remade on [Tumblr ](http://harryventura.tumblr.com)


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